


Tell Me It’s The Strongest Shape

by YesIsAWorld



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Angry Sex, Coming Out, Complicated Relationships, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Famous/Not famous, First Time, Friends With Benefits, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi, Non-Famous Louis, Past Nick Grimshaw/Elgar Johnson/Harry Styles, Polyamory, Threesome - M/M/M, negotiating boundaries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-07-14 06:29:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 73,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16034891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YesIsAWorld/pseuds/YesIsAWorld
Summary: Nick and Elgar have it all. They’re famous, successful, and engaged to be married—and sometimes they play with others.When uni student Louis gets street cast by Elgar for aGQphotoshoot, he's drawn into Nick and Elgar’s complicated relationship.They've always invited mates into their bed. It doesn’t ever mean anything. Until… it does.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jiksa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jiksa/gifts).



> I have so many people to thank for helping me with this fic. This was born out of blood, sweat, and so, so, so many tears, and thanks to the help from all of my wonderful friends I’ve ended up with a fic that I’m really proud of.
> 
> Quite literally, this fic would not exist without [jiksax](http://jiksax.tumblr.com/). Not only is she the captain of the Neglar ship, but she was my rock through an entire year of plotting, head canoning, betaing, hand holding (so much hand holding!), cheerleading, brainstorming, a night of drinking and chatting, reworking, and reworking again. Never once did she lose enthusiasm for this project or these characters and I will be eternally grateful for the tremendous beta job she did on this. Thanks to her and her superb suggestions, this fic is a million times better than I ever thought it could be.
> 
> Thank you to the DWS GC for the endless support and enthusiasm and opinions and helping with title and summaries and being such a great pocket friends. You’re such a great support system and I love each and every one of you. Lauren, [FullOnLarrie](http://fullonlarrie.tumblr.com/), thank you for putting up with me for the past year even as I had such extreme mood swings from day to day while I was writing. I love you, you’re the best. KK, [catfishau](http://catfishau.tumblr.com/), thank you for very patiently answering all of my Brit questions while I was writing, and to [fishingforpeace](http://fishingforpeace.tumblr.com/) for the final Brit pick. 
> 
> Thanks to [gettingaphdinmomo](http://gettingaphdinmomo.tumblr.com/) for her honest thoughts on an earlier draft. [londonfoginacup](http://londonfoginacup.tumblr.com/), you are an angel for for helping pull me out of the pit of despair. Lissie, [phd-mama](http://phd-mama.tumblr.com/), thank you thank you thank you for the handholding, and chatting, and assuring me it was going to be okay and that I shouldn’t give up. [myownsparknow](http://myownsparknow.tumblr.com/), thanks for the beta and the last minute boost of confidence. <333
> 
> To the rest of my GCs and IRL friends I’ve chatted with and my supportive anons!!! I love you all. 
> 
>  
> 
> In this fic, Elgar references a specific list of things Nick does not like. [You can find the list here](http://aperfect20.tumblr.com/post/89044085956/110-and-counting-things-nick-grimshaw-doesnt).
> 
> Thanks, Writ, for putting this whole fest together. <333
> 
> Please do not post this fic or any of my other fics on any other websites. I'm not currently allowing translations either. Thank you for respecting my wishes.

“What about him?” Nick tipped his nearly-empty gin cocktail in the direction of a muscled blond fellow looking at an oversized painting of a photorealistic cowboy on an a crudely drawn boat. “He’s fit?”

“Shh.” Elgar wrapped an arm around Nick’s waist. “Keep your voice down.”

“But why? He should know if we want to fuck him.” Nick squinted. He wasn’t sure if he actually wanted to fuck him or not. He also wasn’t sure if he actually hated the art displayed in the room.

The man turned up a lip at them. 

“Sorry,” Elgar said to the man as he tried to corral Nick into the next room. Nick dragged his feet because he was horny and antsy and felt a bit like he wanted to throw a tantrum solely for some attention. 

“I wasn’t into him,” Elgar whispered in Nick’s ear once they were settled in the next room, where four naked people sat in two rows with their fists on their thighs and VR headsets wrapped around their eyes. “What is even going on in here?”

“Maybe I was,” Nick shot back in a whisper. He thought it was a whisper at least. “Art, obviously.”

“Maybe you were. But I wasn’t.” 

“Fine. Who do you want to join us?” Nick jabbed him in the pec. He had an itch that needed scratched. He needed to be sandwiched between his boyfriend—no, _fiance_ —and a brawny someone, being fucked and fucking. He needed to get out of his own head for a bit. “I’d probably agree to anyone at this point. Probably even Richard.”

“Who’s Richard?”

“Our postman,” Nick said with a shrug.

“You want to screw our postman? What kind of porn are you living in?”

“One where I get laid regularly,” Nick said, leaning in to press their foreheads together. “Come on babe, just pick someone already.” 

Elgar looked around the room. “I don’t know.”

Elgar hadn’t been interested in anyone all night, despite agreeing to it earlier. Nick was starting to lose his patience.

“This room is boring,” Elgar whispered. “Let’s get out of here.”

They linked hands and went back into the stuffy hallway. They hadn’t even seen Tomo’s space yet and Nick had reached his limit of contemporary art. “We still have to find Mr Tomo Campbell, artiste extraordinaire.”

“Yes,” Elgar said patiently. “We’ll find Tomo and then I think we might call it a night?”

“Maybe another one of our mates will be there too,” Nick said hopefully. “Michael said he might stop by, he’s always up for it. And I could use another drink.”

“Maybe.” Elgar plucked the empty glass from Nick’s hand and gave it to a passing waitress with a tight smile. “And I think you’ve had enough.”

Nick frowned. “What’s wrong with you tonight?”

“Nothing. But if you’re looking to pull then it might be a good time to stop.”

“ _We’re_ looking to pull,” Nick clarified, his frown deepening as he tried to read Elgar’s face. “Aren’t we?”

Elgar sighed. “Yeah, sure.”

Nick followed after him down a few hallways, occasionally peeking their heads into other artists’ spaces. The place was huge and Nick wanted to give up on the hunt for Tomo. He’d surely understand, given he was exhibiting in a sprawling maze.

Eventually, they did find it, but Nick was certain his feet were going to fall off. Tomo’s space was packed; he could barely see the splashes of colour behind the throng of people. He looked around for anyone they might be able to bring home with them, anyone Elgar might agree on, anyone that might fuck Nick hard enough to distract him from himself.

“When’d Tomo get so popular?” Elgar asked. 

“Probably about the time he showed up on Harry’s Instagram.”

Elgar laughed. “Sounds about right. Where is the man of the hour anyway?”

The ring of people surrounding Tomo was more than Nick was willing to wade through. And he desperately needed to be on his back, getting his bad mood fucked out of him. 

“No Michael,” Nick said, after they’d blown Tomo kisses from across the room and taken their leave. 

“That’s alright. I’m sure we’ll see him soon.”

“I know,” Nick sighed, leaning against Elgar’s shoulder as they made their way back out. “And there’s no one else you’re interested in?”

Elgar gave him an unreadable look. “Not really.”

“Picky tonight.” Nick bumped their shoulders together and then held Elgar’s hand as they tried to find their way out. 

The cab ride back was quiet. 

“Sorry,” Elgar said, looking out the window.

“For what?”

“Not agreeing on anyone. I know you wanted to have some fun tonight.”

“Oh,” Nick said. He wouldn’t’ve wanted to force something Elgar wasn’t on board with. “It’s okay.”

It was quiet for a long time as they rode. Nick looked up at the sky; it was impossible to see the stars with all the light pollution. His dad had hated that. He swallowed down the lump in his throat. 

“Still,” Elgar eventually said. “Didn’t feel organic. Normally it just, like, happens.”

Nick forced a smile. “After negotiations.”

“Yeah, but like, normally it’s all loose and flirty. Not like plucking some stranger from the street. Or an art gallery.”

“Suppose so.”

They fell quiet again, though Elgar reached out for Nick’s hand across the empty middle seat and gave it a squeeze. Nick held on tight. 

  
  


By the time they’d taken care of the dogs and fallen into bed, Nick’s mood hadn’t improved.

Elgar kissed him softly, and Nick twisted so he could better entwine their legs.

“You okay?” Elgar whispered into the darkness. 

“Yeah… it’s…” It hit Nick sometimes that he’d never see his dad again and the funk was never easily lifted. It’d been long enough though, and there was nothing new he could add to the conversation, nothing Elgar could say that he hadn’t said a million times before. “I’m fine.” 

“You know you can talk to me, about anything, anytime, right?” 

Nick nodded against Elgar’s shoulder. “I know.” Elgar nuzzled into his neck, trailing kisses up the side, digging his teeth softly into the spot that would have Nick writhing if he’d bitten a little harder.

He didn’t want to talk. He wanted to forget. He wanted a new life and a hot fuck and to pretend he wasn’t sliding into a future where the only thing on the horizon was a picket fence and taking a pair of kids to Brighton. He blinked at the ceiling a couple of times. “Just tired.”

Elgar stilled beside him. “Too tired for this, or just, like, tired in a metaphysical sense?”

Nick hummed. Both. “Wanna be close to you,” he said. Then he met Elgar’s lips with his and rocked his hips against Elgar’s until he was hard, then laid back as Elgar took him into his mouth and sucked him off.

  


***

  


As _Vitalogy_ blared from his speakers, Elgar sang along to the gravelly sound of Eddie Vedder’s voice. He knew the words by rote, having listened to the album for decades, and as muscle memory took control of both the words from his mouth and air drums against the steering wheel, Elgar’s mind was free to think about Nick.

Things had been so good—so easy—for so many years that Elgar was unprepared to deal with the the growing crevice between them. There was still nothing _wrong_ , so there was nothing to fix, and the helplessness that Elgar felt when seeing the flashing grief cross Nick’s face was gnawing at his soul. It had been almost a year since they’d put Nick’s dad in the ground, but some days Nick’s grief still felt as loud as when it had just happened.

Elgar was miserable not being able to help the one he loved, and the disconnect was throwing off the balance in other areas of his life. Forgetting events. Losing inspiration. Sleeping poorly. Elgar needed to find a way a wrangle it all back under control before everything unraveled around him. 

_Henry’s launch._

Elgar had almost managed to forget about the stupid launch disaster over the course of the day.

He’d mumbled something to Nick about a quiet night in and catching up as Nick had gotten ready for work that morning, and Nick had snapped at him while pawing through his drawer, “I’m not even surprised you forgot, even though Henry’s been talking about this for ages. Don’t worry, I’ll go alone.” 

Instead of arguing, Elgar had turned over and gone back to sleep. His plan to apologise had been forgotten when he overslept and then been slammed at work. 

The new plan was to order flowers for Henry, and for Nick too.

Changing lanes, Elgar paused the album.

“Call Nathan,” he said into the sudden silence. It wasn’t very often that he didn’t have some sort of soundtrack behind his life; a trade-off of having an early-morning radio DJ as a partner. The phone rang once, and then his executive assistant picked up.

“Afternoon, EJ. What’s up?”

“Can you send some flowers to Henry, please? Then go home and enjoy your night. We’ve got the thing with—”

“Sauerberg. I know. Your suit is pressed and hanging on the wardrobe.” Nathan was the best. “Your change of clothes for after the meeting is in the duffle. I’ll be in the car with coffee and breakfast when it picks you up.” 

“And the—”

“Paperwork is in the folder on the kitchen table. There’s a Post-it. You can’t miss it.”

Elgar couldn’t think of anything else he needed. “That’s it then. See you in the morning.”

“Um…”

“Yeah?”

“You can tell me to fuck off, but is everything okay? You seem a bit off today.”

Elgar sighed. “I’m fine. Just stressed about the deadline. Still not feeling inspired enough for something to come together, you know?”

“You'll figure it out. You always do.”

Elgar hoped he was right.

They said their goodbyes and Elgar turned the music back up. He tried to visualise what the upcoming cover was going to look like. He was less than a year into his job as fashion director at _GQ Style_ and his bosses were impressed enough to also make him a contributing fashion editor at _British GQ_. But the next cover was stumping him and as the deadline inched closer and closer he was starting to panic that it would simply be an empty white page with the words “inspiration has been lost.”

So he drove to an area of London he rarely went, hoping that something, anything, would light the spark of creativity he’d suddenly lost. Driving, jamming to some classics, letting his head clear of any lingering stress was a great way to let new ideas in. 

It had worked before. Maybe it’d work again.

As he drove by an old skate park, something— _someone_ —caught his eye. He parked his car in the first spot he found and stepped out.

It was a short walk and his eyes danced along the low, graffitied wall as he drew closer. He was surprised by how empty it was, considering the size, but there were enough skaters around that he didn’t feel like too much of a creeper taking a seat on the concrete barrier and watching the kids skate past. There was nothing remarkable about them: a sea of the same jackets and ratty Vans and low-slung jeans and snapbacks. 

It was getting late and he really needed to be getting home. There was the contract that he needed to read over one last time, and after leaving the office early just to drive around aimlessly, he was sure his email had already started to pile up. His stomach made a pitiful growl and he resigned himself to another day without the lynchpin images of the issue. 

But there was one guy Elgar couldn’t take his eyes off of. He was gorgeous and curvy and carried himself with a confidence that Elgar admired.

The guy’s laugh cut through the rough noise of spinning wheels and smacking wood on concrete. Loud and unrestrained, it had Elgar smiling despite the borderline numb arse and the fact that the creative part of his brain wouldn’t kick into gear. 

The guy wasn’t doing anything but standing there, holding his board next to him, laughing with his friends, but Elgar was captivated. The perfect juxtaposition of delicate yet tough. He was slight in all his details—small hands and graceful wrists—but still he gave the impression of being the same height as his mates. Maybe it was the proud chest, the elongated neck. His vest accentuated his wiry biceps and his thighs were drool-worthy, but there was a softness too. And his bone structure. Elgar wanted to nose along the scruff accentuating his jaw and cheekbones. 

He was the strike of inspiration Elgar’d been waiting for.

“What are you looking at?” one of the other guys asked. The sides of his head were shaved and his colour-streaked hair flopped to one side. He was smaller than the guy Elgar had been eyeing, but the guy squared up anyway, like an arrogant peacock. 

Even though he didn’t want trouble, some parts of him were still hardwired from growing up a black kid in Peterborough, and he found himself squaring up too. “I’m not looking for trouble.”

“Mighta found it anyway,” one of the others said, backing the first guy. 

Part of Elgar wanted to laugh. He was pretty sure he could take on this whole group of scrawny kids without breaking a sweat, but that was really not what he wanted. Not to mention, it’d be a terrible look for Condé Nast if one of their fashion directors was caught getting into a scuffle at a skate park. He was already an outlier as it was.

“Really, I just want to talk to your friend.” Elgar motioned toward the guy and all of their heads turned to look at him. 

“He’s not interested.”

The guy flinched, small but noticeable to Elgar, who had been in the same spot as him for years. 

Elgar turned his attention back to the crew. “Not saying he is, mate.” Even as he was saying it and turning back to the gorgeous guy, he could’ve sworn he caught the tail end of a covert gaze that maybe said differently. “Wanted to talk to him about a job opportunity.”

Elgar appreciated a total lack of poker face, and the comically confused eyebrows didn’t disappoint, until the guy smoothed it back to nonchalance and nodded once. 

“’S fine,” the guy said, stepping forward. “Can handle my own business.”

He held his board in front of his chest as they took a few steps away from the prying ears of his friends. 

“I’m Elgar.” He held his hand out. “Sorry, we might have gotten off on the wrong foot.” He put his hand back down after Louis eyed it skeptically. 

“’M Louis.” His eyes were flickering about, looking everywhere but at Elgar’s face. There was a faint, but unmistakable flush high on his cheeks. _Interesting_. “Don’t know what you want.”

“I want to talk to you about maybe modeling for—”

Louis started shaking his head vehemently. “Nu-uh. Like they said, not interested. Not interested in whatever weird sex—”

“No!” Jesus. Elgar cleared his throat. “Sorry. No. You’ve got the wrong impression. This is legit. I’m, uh, the fashion director for _GQ Style_. It’s a men’s style magazine.”

“I know what it fucking is and I still don’t believe you, mate.” Louis’ skepticism was written all over his face, but underneath that, Elgar could swear there was a bit of intrigue. He hadn’t walked away, yet, at least. 

“Here, um…” His brain was firing away. Normally a business card cleared up this confusion, but he knew that wouldn’t cut it this time. He thrust his phone at Louis. “Google me.” 

Louis looked down at the phone then back up at him. 

“Right,” Elgar mostly muttered to himself as he took the phone back, unlocked it, opened up a browser, and typed his name in. Then he handed it back to Louis. 

Louis still didn’t look down. “I’m a total stranger and you just handed over a… is this a fucking iPhone X?”

Elgar shrugged. “I’m not lying.”

“I think you’ve got the wrong guy, honestly. I’m just…” he vaguely motioned to his friends, “a fucking chav hanging with my mates. I’m not whatever you think I am.”

“I’m pretty great at my job, for the record. And I think you are.”

For the first time, it looked like Louis was actually allowing himself to appraise him. He let his eyes flit over Elgar’s face, over his shoulders, across his hands. Elgar felt himself growing warm under his scrutiny. He swallowed thickly. He needed to pass muster, needed this guy to see something trustworthy in him.

“What do I have to do?” Louis finally asked. 

“Show up here…” Elgar patted his pockets again, even knowing he had neither a pen nor paper. “I can text you?” After a pause Louis nodded. “The location and date and time. Oh, fuck. Actually, they’ll need test shots. My assistant, Nathan, will call you to set up a time.”

“Okay.” Louis still didn’t look sold as he told Elgar his number. 

“Any other questions?”

“I’ll be wearing clothes, right? You promise this isn’t a—”

“Promise. All on the up and up. They want to sell clothes you’ll be wearing.”

The answer seemed to satisfy Louis. “And I’ll get paid?”

Elgar told him the going rate and Louis’ eyes went wide. “Seriously? For standing around, in clothes?”

“And getting your picture taken.”

“Fuck me.” 

Elgar wasn’t going to go down that line of thinking, however fleetingly tempted he was. He needed to keep it professional. He could see the cover taking shape in his head already; Louis’ narrowed, untrusting eyes, a cigarette between his parted lips and an open adidas bomber jacket showing off his young, hairless torso. 

Louis swallowed, glancing over his shoulder to where his friends were still keeping an eye on them. “I should—my mates’ll—”

“Yeah, go. I'll, uh, I'll be in touch.”

They parted with a tentative wave, and Elgar kept his fingers crossed that Louis wouldn’t let his nerves get the best of him and end up flaking. 

  


***

  


The day of the shoot arrived and Louis had locked himself in his room so that his flatmates wouldn’t notice him pissing himself with nerves. Multiple times in the previous week he had typed out a message to Elgar that he was bailing on the shoot. Even the test shoot hadn’t soothed his apprehensions. It had been with a thin blonde woman. He hadn’t done anything other than look at the camera and tilt his head in different directions. 

Every day had been spent with a ball of nerves in his stomach and a stress headache from clenching his jaw. It wasn’t an ideal situation and Louis was pretty sure that meant that he shouldn’t have agreed to do it. He hadn’t mentioned the shoot to anyone because he knew his friends would laugh in his face at the mere idea. He didn’t know how to ‘work his angles’ and giving his best ‘Blue Steel’ to himself in the mirror was laughable. 

So his plan was to let Elgar know that he wasn’t doing it. But then he thought about the money. And his uni fees. And his ancient, cracked phone that he had been too embarrassed to hand over to Elgar. Not that it mattered, really. Handing his phone to someone like Elgar was a one-time thing. His friends mostly had the same amount of money—which is to say, none—as him. But he’d love to visit his mum over his next break. And if a few hours of work could make that happen… he’d be foolish to turn it down.

Elgar was going to be at the actual photoshoot, as if he wasn’t nervous enough. “See you in a few hours,” his text said. Louis hadn’t responded. 

He was also pretty sure Elgar was wrong about him. There was nothing about him that screamed model. He was short and had some muscles but was far from ripped. His face was gaunt and unremarkable, and he was just a regular guy without any of the cool factor that the guys on adverts had. 

His stomach grumbled and he went to the kitchen to make himself a tea. Luckily Zayn was already waiting for the kettle to boil. Unfortunately, that meant Louis was going to have to talk to him. 

“Like the look.” Louis ruffled Zayn’s newly, as of that morning, lime-green hair. 

“Thanks, mate. Pez did it. Not sure about it, though.”

“You say that pretty much every time she dyes it.”

Zayn laughed. “’S why I keep doing it.”

“Maybe platinum’s your look. Or you could grow it out for once, see how long you can get it.” He yanked on a strand for good measure.

“Fuck off.” Zayn handed him his favourite mug, the red one with the Doncaster Rovers FC logo that his mum had given him as a going away gift when he moved to London. So he didn’t forget his roots. As if that were possible. 

“Thanks.”

“You wanna skate later?” Zayn asked. “Calvin mentioned going to House of Vans?”

“I can’t. I have a…” He floundered for a moment; he really should’ve come up with a cover story. “A thing.”

“You have a thing?” Zayn mocked. 

“Um, yeah, I’ve got to do this thing for Clarke’s class.” Louis was fairly certain Zayn wasn’t going to push the matter, no matter if he actually believed him. Zayn was great. And also notoriously secretive himself.

Zayn gave him a side eye that Louis resolved to ignore. “Okay.” Louis dropped a tea bag in each of their mugs. “See you tonight then?”

“Beers and _Ex on the Beach_? Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Okay,” Zayn said skeptically. 

The kettle whistled. Louis poured his water and then spent an excruciating three minutes avoiding eye contact with Zayn before he added his splash of milk. With a fake smile, he made an exit from Zayn’s questioning eyes. 

The tea didn’t help. 

Once it got past the point of no return, Louis picked himself up, dragged himself to the train station, and regretted every moment of his life that led him to such a ridiculous place. He was heading to a professional photo shoot as a model. He shoved his earbuds in and tried not to think about it.

Walking up the street, Louis was positive that he must’ve gotten the address wrong. There was nothing posh or special about the block, there wasn’t even a sign with the name of the studio. 

But then he noticed Elgar ahead, smoking and looking casual in a pair of athletic shorts. Louis let himself look while he was still at a distance. He wanted to squeeze Elgar’s biceps… and maybe sit on his thighs.

Elgar’s face lit up as Louis walked closer and Louis managed to not actually swoon. 

“Hey, you made it,” he said.

“I did. Bricking it, if I’m honest. Still might run,” Louis said. 

“Ah, then I’m going to have to tackle you and before we know it coppers are involved and it’ll be a whole mess. More dangerous for me, actually, so I’d prefer if you didn’t.”

Louis laughed, despite his still shaking hands. He shoved them in his pockets. “Okay, just for you, I’ll stay.” He recognised that there was something dangerously truthful in the statement; there were probably far too many things that Elgar could make Louis agree to. 

Elgar smiled and jutted his chin towards the nearest door. “Ready?”

“Nope, but I’m going anyway.”

“Good lad. There might be some attitudes up there. I promise it has nothing to do with you. Just how they are. Think it’s a show of power or something. Can be twats, so just ignore it.”

“Not the first time some posh people are going to look down on me. I can hold my own.” 

“Wouldn’t’ve hired you if I didn’t think you could.”

Elgar introduced him to a dizzying array of people: assistants and stylists and makeup artists and photographers and more assistants and a slew of people whose roles on set Louis couldn’t work out. But he signed what they told him to sign and he smiled when he was offered tea and declined the table of untouched food because there was still a very real possibility of him getting sick. 

Then Elgar led him to a corner area where there were racks of brightly coloured clothes and tables of accessories. Louis blanched. He was going to look like an idiot. 

“Louis, this is Caroline. She’ll be getting you dressed. Caroline, this is Louis Tomlinson.” Elgar winked at her. “Play nice.”

She pitched her head back and laughed, loud and throaty. “Always do.” After sizing up Louis, she wasted no time in threading her fingers through his hair and tilting his head to get a better look at him. He hoped she liked what she saw. “Huh. Where’d you find this one?”

“Just get him dressed, please.”

She smirked. “Strip.”

Louis was taken aback and whipped his head around to face Elgar. “Excuse me?” Elgar had been very clear that this wouldn’t be a nudie shoot. He wasn’t easily duped.

Caroline put her hands on her hips. “Get out of those clothes so we can get you in these.” She raised her arm like she was unveiling the colourful racks for the first time. 

He turned his back to Elgar, and with warm cheeks, Louis pulled his shirt over his head and shimmied out of his trousers. His whole body felt hot and there was no need for Elgar to see his thin chest or the bit of pudge that masked his abs. He had never felt less like a model. After a brief moment of standing in only his pants while everyone bustled around him fully clothed, he crossed his arms in front of himself. 

“Shoo,” Caroline said as she waved Elgar away. “One stylist is enough. I’ll bring him out when he’s ready.”

Elgar tilted his head and gave a thoughtful look before nodding once and giving Caroline one last warning. “Nice, remember?”

Caroline gave him a smile and a middle finger, then turned back to Louis. “Love him. But if I don’t kick him out to do his job, he’ll take over mine.”

She laughed again and Louis smiled cautiously along. “Come on, love. You’re in good hands.” She uncrossed his arms and gave his shoulders a little shake. “No need for that. We’re about to get up close and personal.” 

She held up a tiny pair of leggings. 

Louis blanked for a moment, trying to figure out how to say no. He whirled around, and that was literally his luck, Elgar was gone and he was on his own. There was absolutely no way they were going to put him in something so tight. “Not sure those leggings are going to fit,” he said with an awkward laugh. “I’ve never seen trousers so tight.”

“They’re not leggings.” Caroline barely concealed her eye roll. “They’re joggers.”

“I wouldn’t jog in anything so tight.”

“People definitely jog in skinny-fit trackies.”

“But these are pictures, for like, a popular magazine.” A bit of him felt like crying, for no good reason. He knew, of course, that people ran in tight leggings, but there was normally a bit of… coverage; shorts worn over top or something. “How are you going to hide my, uh, stuff?”

She shoved the leggings into his arms, and with arched eyebrows looked pointedly at his junk. “Seriously?” 

There was still time to grab his clothes and run.

“Your dignity will be preserved,” she said, holding up an oversized, mostly green, bomber jacket. He was going to be positively swimming in it. 

He finished getting dressed without complaint, Caroline swapping one thing and then another until she was satisfied. 

Elgar let out a low whistle when Louis walked out onto set. Louis ducked his head and hoped that the makeup caking his face covered the blush he felt blooming on his cheeks. 

“Louis, come meet Erich. He’ll be shooting you today.”

Louis held out his hand to shake like his stepdad had taught him, and Erich met him with fingertips and a slight joggle. Louis glanced at Elgar as Erich pointedly checked him out. 

“Yeah, he’ll do, Elgar.”

“Put it away,” Elgar huffed. “Don’t scare him off.”

“’M not scared,” Louis mumbled. Uncomfortable, more like. He hated the occasional catcalls he’d gotten, unless he was drunk as a skunk and on the prowl himself. He never thought he was much to look at, and an insistent little thought lodged itself in his brain and he wondered if Elgar would ever look at him like Erich just did. 

All of Louis’ friends were straight and the only experiences he’d had were a few secretive nights out at a gay club, where he’d spent most of the night looking over his shoulder for anyone who might recognise him. He had missed all the lessons that other queer kids picked up at some point about how to find each other out in the wild. The only lesson he’d mastered was the one about hiding his sexuality.

He felt exposed under Elgar’s gaze in a way that rarely happened, like all of his secrets were posted on a billboard for everyone to see. 

During one reset, Elgar wandered back to the changing area while Louis was in a vest and Caroline was holding up two separate Louis Vuitton sweatshirts, trying to decide. 

“Oh, you have tattoos,” Elgar said out of nowhere.

“Yeah? Is that a problem?” Louis looked down at his ink-covered arms. Nothing to be done about them now. 

“I like them. They’re, uh, clean looking.” 

“Thanks? I think.” Louis fingered his newest one, the bird covering most of his forearm. 

“Does it mean something special?”

“This one? It’s just a fat bird,” Louis said. He glanced at Elgar’s arms, then forced himself to focus on his Reds t-shirt. “Yours are cool.” _Cool_. The opposite of Louis at this very moment. “Terrible taste in footie teams, though.”

Elgar laughed. “They’re naff.” He hitched his leg up on the rung of a stool. Louis averted his eyes. He was absolutely not going to get hard on set from looking at Elgar’s calves, no matter how muscled and hairy and perfect they were. Elgar pointed at his Liverpool FC tattoo. “Got the most important things to me.”

“Liverpool’s shite.” The words were out of Louis’ mouth before he could stop them. 

Caroline’s “Oooooh… Those are fighting words,” was the only reaction for a moment, before Elgar scoffed. 

“Just when I was starting to like you.” Elgar shook his head. Louis was fairly certain Elgar had liked him from the moment he had laid eyes on him, and he bit his lip to keep from smiling. “Don’t tell me you’re a Man U fan. I’ll have to kick you off set. Bar you from any future shoots.”

“Everton, mate.” 

Louis laughed as Elgar sputtered in disbelief. 

“Fuck off, kid.” Louis really liked disarming someone as put together as Elgar. “Everton,” Elgar mocked. 

“Nah, just busting your balls. I’m actually a Chelsea man.”

“Still not great, but maybe we can turn you into a Reds fan yet.”

Louis turned his head. He couldn’t let Elgar see how much he was affected by such innocent footie banter. But at the possibility of this… thing… between them lasting long enough for Louis to switch teams, he couldn’t quite tamp down the smile. He was the worst at playing it cool. 

Caroline saved the moment by finally setting on his next look and handing over a rainbow-striped puffy body warmer. 

“Plans for this weekend?” Elgar asked as Caroline helped to zip him up. 

“Reading. Party at my mate’s place. Nothing too spectacular. You?”

“Liverpool’s playing Crystal Palace.”

“Oh, bet you’ve got expensive seats closer than nosebleed.” Louis knew despite Elgar’s low-key look that he had to be making bank with his job. He was willing to bet Elgar hated being called on that.

Elgar cleared his throat. “My partner got us tickets.” 

Louis resolutely did not move a single muscle in his face. _Partner_. Elgar was handsome. Built. Kind. Creative. _Of course_ he wasn’t single. Louis had already known he didn’t stand a chance, but still his stomach clenched.

“He hates football though,” Elgar continued. 

If he noticed Louis’ sudden crisis, he was great at ignoring it.

“Oh.” Louis didn’t need to know anything else about his partner. 

They were called back to set and Louis slowly got the hang of moving his body and tilting his jaw and staring the lens like he meant it. He couldn’t stop himself from peeking at Elgar whenever he was in his eyeline, and Elgar was always already looking at him. But, of course he was. Louis was the model for the shoot, everyone was looking at him. He did his best to ignore Elgar and do whatever the photographer instructed. 

Before Louis knew it, he was back in his own clothes and being hugged goodbye.

“Thanks again, for all of this,” Louis said to Elgar, as he lingered by the door. “It was actually not horrible.”

“Not horrible,” he laughed. “Good to know.

Louis put out a fist for a bump, and cursed himself for not being more suave. Elgar tapped his knuckles with a smile.

“You’re a natural. Just like I knew you would be. I am great at my job, if you remember.”

Louis rocked back on his heels. There was no reason why saying goodbye to him should’ve been hard, but pulling himself away was stupidly difficult.

“Hey,” Elgar paused and bit his lip. “There’s a party tonight in Soho, if you want to come.”

“What?”

“GQ is sponsoring a party. If you’re free. It’s at—”

“Um, thanks but, uh…” His bank account wasn’t going to support fancy drinks. He could lie, but something about Elgar made him think that he Elgar wouldn’t look down on the truth. “Student budget.” He shrugged apologetically, even though he wasn’t ashamed, not really. 

Elgar tilted his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Open bar. Drinks are on GQ.”

Louis opened his mouth to protest more: he didn’t fit in with that crowd. He was just a lad who’d promised his roommate he’d watch _Ex on the Beach_ and needed to keep his head down and study enough to get a job when he graduated. He was just… Louis. Calvin and Nazim and Zayn and the rest of the lads would be all eye rolls and scoffs if they saw him considering. 

“Come on. One drink. If you hate it, you can leave,” Elgar said. “Like, no pressure. Of course.” He took a step back. “But it’s not every day you can get bladdered for free. And Alexa Chung should be there. She’s on the cover this month.” He winked. 

Louis couldn’t place her. She could’ve been any one of a number of actresses that he always mixed up because they all looked exactly the same. But he was pretty sure the lads have mentioned her. It’d probably get him some cache points, get them off his back for a bit if he could name drop. “I don’t know who that is, but okay. Fine. Yes. I’m in.”

Elgar pumped his arm and Louis tried not to stare at his bulging bicep. 

Elgar was not straight and judging by how the whole day had gone, Louis was willing to bet that there’d be others at the party who weren’t either. He wondered if there was a chance he could find a hot, anonymous hookup to scratch the itch that had been building all day. 

  


***

  


Nick had only been at the club a few minutes and was already sweaty. He ran his fingers through his wilting quiff in an attempt to get some height back.

“Oh my God! You’re Nick Grimshaw.” 

Nick scoffed, trying again to get the bartender’s attention. The party was too loud and he was still way too sober. "Oh god, am I?"

"’M a big fan," the guy said, biting his lip in a way Nick had to look away from. Too many cute, young twinks in fashion, honestly. It simply wouldn't do to let his attention linger. 

Nick attempted to get the bartender’s attention, again. “I just got here; you know the secret to getting a drink?” he asked the lip biter.

“You’ve gotta be scrappy!” the guy chirped. He stuck his quarter-filled beer bottle in Nick’s hand, shouldered his way past the people standing at the bar, and shouted back to Nick, “Whaddya want? It’s an open bar!”

Nick stifled a laugh. If it’d get him a drink more quickly, he was happy to play along with the kid’s enthusiasm. “No shit! In that case, I’ll have a double G&T.” 

The guy made a face and resumed his attempt at getting the bartender’s attention… mostly by sticking his neck out and simply showing his face. Nick couldn’t blame the bartender for moving over to him quickly. Nick was too far away to hear the small talk, but it wasn’t too much longer before the guy turned around and gave Nick his G&T. Then the guy took his warm beer, swallowed down the rest of it, and put the empty bottle on the bartop. He turned back to Nick with a fresh beer. 

“’M Louis,” he shouted. 

Nick bent down to talk closer to Louis’ ear. His hair smelled of expensive pomade, and there was a sheen of sweat on his neck. He probably had all the boys on the dance floor eating out of his hand. “Nick.” 

Louis smiled. “I know.”

“Right, of course, you’re a fan.” 

Nick shook his head at the ridiculousness of standing here with this… boy… instead of finding Elgar and Fifi and the rest of this friends who were somewhere in the club.

“I loved your interview with The 1975. They’re so sick.”

“Matty’s one of my favs. Brillant. He’s just as sassy and ridiculous as you think he is.”

Louis bit on his lower lip and tilted his head. “Did he really play you their new album? Is it as great as everyone says?”

“You’ll find out soon, love.” He winked at Louis, but couldn’t help but throw him a bone when Louis dramatically rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out in retaliation. “It really is. You’re gonna love it.”

The DJ made an awful transition from Robyn to Bomfunk MC’s, and Nick craned his neck to make sure it wasn’t someone he knew. 

Louis stood on his tiptoes and put his cold fingers on Nick’s arm. “Should’ve hired you.”

“What?”

“To DJ. Honestly, what is this? 1997?”

“Were you even alive in 1997?” Nick snarked, only halfway joking.

“That’s a good one. Very original.” Louis tipped his beer bottle in Nick’s direction then took a swig. “Surprised you can remember 1997, old man.”

Nick threw his head back and laughed. “Me too actually, ecstasy is a hell of a drug.” 

Louis choked out a laugh, and Nick licked his lips as he considered him. He really should get back to his table. Instead he leaned close, knocking his glass against the beer bottle. “Louis, was it?”

  
  


Before he realised it, he was just as drunk as Louis and hadn’t even attempted to find his friends. Or his fiance, who, once Nick thought of it, hadn’t made any attempt to find him either. Which was fine, really. Elgar was bound to be networking, and as proud of him as Nick was, he hated people kissing his arse so he would do something for them. It was all so predictable and bored Nick to tears. 

“Let’s dance!” Louis yelled into Nick’s ear.

“Ow. No need to shout.” Nick pressed a finger into his ear in an attempt to stop the pain. “You want to dance to this crap?” It was some terrible trance remix that Nick could absolutely not endorse. 

“Not particularly.” Despite the darkness and Nick’s level of inebriation, he still noticed the wrinkle that appeared between Louis’ eyes. Louis held his head high and squared his shoulders. “I want to dance with you.”

Nick couldn’t help but find something comical in how earnest he was.

“One dance,” Nick attempted a stern look. He wasn’t sure how well he pulled it off. “That’s it. And let me finish my drink first.”

Louis was a shit dancer at best, his moves mostly consisting of jumping in time with the beat and moving his arms around. Nick didn’t mind it much. At least it meant he wasn’t going to be tempted to grind against the guy’s bum, because it was a stellar bum and Nick could never resist a cheeky flirt. 

He and Elgar never went out just for the sake of going out any more. It was always events and networking, and just enough drinks to stay on the knife’s edge of tipsy. It had been forever since he’d lost himself to touch and beats and attention on a dance floor. Louis kept turning to him, making sure he was still in close proximity, and Nick returned each grin with one of his own.

Nick lied about only dancing for one song. 

One turned into two, turned into Nick losing count and slowly getting closer and closer to Louis. They were both sweat-damp and probably touching a little bit more than Nick should’ve allowed. He was a flirt. All of London—hell, all of England—knew that, but this was something different. He could feel the heat of Louis’ eyes and it felt like he had a purpose, not just a bit of harmless fun. He needed to pull back the reins before—

A slower song came on, and Louis pressed himself all along Nick’s front, winding his arms up and around Nick’s neck. His cheeks were pink, his eyes a little glazed-over. Drunk, then. Nick could feel how hard Louis was against him and he backed his hips up to keep Louis in the dark about his own situation. 

“Wanna go to the loo?”

Nick wanted to cry at how innocent the boy was. He was Nick Grimshaw and his days of anonymity and the public hookups that went along with that were long gone. His contract with the BBC had a very clear statement on public conduct and he rather liked hosting the Breakfast Show. Plus, Elgar. The last time Nick set out to pull someone for them had been a disaster.

“Sorry, mate.” Nick gently removed Louis’s arms from around his neck and took a step back. “Don’t really do bathrooms anymore.” 

He didn’t really want to stop dancing with Louis, but Louis’s face had gone a dark red and he’d averted his gaze like he knew he’d stuffed this up. Nick combed his fingers through his hair, wondering what to do. It had been… nice, this, but he knew it couldn’t go any further. He shouldn’t even have let it go as far as it had.

Louis took a step back, chastened, and then another, then turned and all but ran off the dance floor. Nick watched him go. 

  


***

  


The moment the words were out of his mouth Louis felt Nick stiffen against him and he knew he’d made a mistake. Obviously Nick Fucking Grimshaw didn’t fancy a quickie in the loo with him. Nick probably pulled actual, real models and people who knew how to use a salad fork and pronounced their G’s, not—not someone like him.

He didn’t have a ton of experience hitting on blokes in clubs, but he’d really thought Nick had maybe been a little into him. He needed to get a clue and learn how to read some cues instead of just throwing himself at the first two guys he had been interested in in ages. He should probably find someone closer to his own age, his own tax bracket, his own social circle. 

He would drown his sorrows in one more shot, thank Elgar for the opportunity, and then go back home. It was way past midnight and his night at the ball should’ve ended a while ago, before he felt like a total pumpkin. 

His throat burned as the vodka went down. Then he got another one because it didn’t matter anyway. 

He stood on his tiptoes and tried to find Elgar, hoping he was in the last spot Louis had seen him. He was. Still standing next to a table full of beautiful people dressed in designer clothes that Louis would never be able to identify, let alone afford. Still, his mum’s voice swam in his head; it’d be rude to leave without saying goodbye.

He ran a hand down the front of his shirt and marched over, hoping he appeared less drunk than he felt. He gave Elgar a careful pat on the back.

“Louis! I was worried you’d run off!” Louis saw a familiar pattern out of the corner of his eye and he turned to flee just as Elgar caught it too. “Nick! Perfect!”

Louis hoped his grimace was coming off as more of a smile. 

“I was just leaving…”

“Nonsense! Stay for one more drink. Here comes my fiance.” With the hand that wasn’t wrapped around Louis’ shoulder, Elgar reached out to—

_Nick_. Louis’ drinks churned in his stomach. _Fiance._ Neither one was wearing a ring. Nick stumbled at a bit as Elgar yanked him over. Louis didn’t find it charming at all. Especially not when Elgar planted a kiss square on Nick’s lips.

Louis could just imagine how they’d make fun of him once he was out of earshot. He’d bumbled his way through the photoshoot and made a pass at Elgar’s completely unattainable _fiance_. He couldn’t get out of there quick enough. He didn’t belong in this world.

Elgar squeezed Louis’ shoulder. “Nick, I believe you’ve met Louis.” 

Nick gave sheepish wave. “Hiya.” Louis mimicked the wave, but his throat was too dry to fake a greeting. 

Elgar’s hand was still strong on Louis’ shoulder. “Louis is on our cover next month.”

Nick’s eyebrows rose. “Oh really? _This_ is the kid you couldn’t stop talking about?”

_Kid_ , Louis scoffed. Of course. “I really do have to go,” he said. “Thank you though, for everything. Today’s been… amazing actually.” 

He shouldn’t let the fact that the two very out of his league guys were together and had no interest in him cloud the rest of the night. It _had_ been amazing; a glimpse into a world he would never be a part of, but he had been lucky enough to experience it for one day. He knew that logically, but he was too drunk for that message to travel from his brain to his heart. 

Elgar’s face seemed to fall at the news, but it might have been a trick of the light or a trick of Louis’ heart. Either way, a flicker of disappointment wasn’t going to make up for everything that he didn’t get that night. Louis quickly waved to the table of strangers and to Nick, and then Elgar gave him a brief, tight hug and he was stumbling into the cold London air. 

  
  


Luckily, Zayn was awake and sitting on the sofa when Louis stumbled into his flat, still drunk. He lay down, putting his head in Zayn’s lap. 

“Fun night?” Zayn asked. 

“Was a bit shite, actually,” Louis mumbled. 

“You smell like you drank out the bar, so probably wasn’t that bad.” Zayn tried to rake his fingers through Louis’ hair like he always did when Louis was sad, and vulnerable enough to let Zayn see. “And what’s in your hair?”

“Made a fool of myself tonight.”

“Doubt that.”

“I did though. There were these two guys. Like, important guys with real jobs. And they were so nice, and funny and fit.” 

_Shit._ _Fuck._ He had never said anything like this to his mates before. Two handsome men gave him the slightest bit of attention and everything he had kept hidden started to spill out. 

“But of course they didn’t fancy me back, because I work at a chippy and I’m supremely uncool and we’re from different worlds.” 

Louis tried to steady his breathing. The only thing worse than no guys wanting to have sex with him would be coming out to his best friend, and having his friend reject him too. 

Zayn was quiet for a moment. Louis was fairly certain he’d vom on the carpet in a few minutes. 

“Who were they?” Zayn finally asked.

“No one.” The silence stretched between, taut and liable to snap at any moment. “Just, they—they were really fit, you know. Really fit.”

Zayn grunted. “If they’re treating you like shite then I’m going to kick their arses, whoever they are.”

Louis tucked his face into Zayn’s thigh to hide his smile. “’S not like that.”

Zayn pinched his earlobe. “We can talk more in the morning once you’ve sobered up. Or I can pretend this never happened. Let me know once you’re not quite so pissed.”

“You’re a good friend, Zaynie.”

They laid there watching the last twenty minutes of _Deadpool_ , Zayn gently rubbing Louis’ back until he finally got up, leaving Louis lying on the couch pillowless. “Want me to turn the lights off?” Zayn asked.

“No. Gonna get up in a mo.”

Zayn snorted. He went into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water that he put on the coffee table in front of Louis’ face. “You’re better than you know.”

Louis curled into himself and closed his eyes. 

  


***

  


Elgar had never considered himself a jealous person. Both he and Nick were Class A flirts and they’d both slept their way through London in their youth. It was still a slight mystery to him how they’d both managed to settle down into a life of domestic, mostly monogamous bliss.

Elgar had kept an eye on Louis through the night, trying not to let a flare of jealousy ignite every time he and Nick had touched. Louis had put his hand on Nick’s when he stretched up to talk next to Nick’s ear. Nick had led Louis from the bar with a hand on his lower back. Their dancing left Elgar unexpectedly hard and wanting both more eye candy and for them to separate _immediately_. He had turned away and kept his distance. There had been a table full influencers talking fashion and he’d tried to focus on their opinions. 

He and Nick had left shortly after Louis did. The night had lost part of its shine without him there and it became just another night out. And he had spent it doing work while Nick was out there grinding on Louis. 

The dogs jumped and yipped as they entered their house. Elgar squatted down to scratch behind their ears and rub their bellies. 

Nick broke the silence as they let the dogs out into the garden. “Penny for your thoughts?” 

“Hm?

“You were quiet the whole ride home.”

“Wasn’t thinking about anything.”

He missed Nick. They’d been so busy, and while Elgar hadn’t hoped that the night out would be a way to reconnect, necessarily—it was business, after all—he’d thought at least it would be a night out together, touching and laughing and talking. And then Nick had gone and spent his night with Louis instead. Which was _fine._ But stood across from each other, Elgar took in Nick’s still-flushed cheeks and the wilted quiff and his slightly sour smell, and he _wanted._

Elgar reached for Nick’s hand, spinning him as though they were slow dancing, before pulling Nick flush against himself. Elgar cupped Nick’s jaw and brought him in for a deep kiss that made Nick go lax against him. 

“What was that for?” Nick breathed once they came up for air.

The dogs scratched at the back door and Elgar moved to let them back in. Nick put his hand back and caught himself against the wall. Elgar gave both dogs more treats than he should’ve, and turned back to Nick, giving him a thorough once over. 

“Not sure I tell you often enough how fit you are.”

Nick chuckled, reaching for him again. “We both know I’m vain enough to need constant reassurance.”

“Yeah, but I should tell you how sexy you are every day, unprompted.”

He kissed down Nick’s neck, tasting the salt of his sweat and the spice of his cologne. Nick tipped his head back, so Elgar continued, mouthing down to his collarbones and biting gently at the soft skin. 

“Feels so good,” Nick murmured to the ceiling, fisting his hand in Elgar’s shirt, “baby.”

Elgar’s heart swelled at the endearment. “Want to take you to bed. It’s been too long since I’ve been in you.”

Nick shivered as Elgar started to unbutton his shirt. He ran his knuckles over Nick’s exposed nipples and Nick let out a little whimper. 

“Sensitive.” Elgar smirked into his shoulder. 

He loved little else more than setting Nick’s body on edge. By the time he got to the last button of Nick’s shirt, he stroked at the coarse hair disappearing into Nick’s pants and then cupped his hard dick, giving it a gentle squeeze and forcing a strangled noise from the back of Nick’s throat.

Elgar pushed Nick’s shirt off his shoulders and let it drop to the ground, then set to work on Nick’s belt. 

“Bed, please,” Nick pleaded, pressing up against him. “Need to get you naked too.”

“We’ve got time,” Elgar said, but his body was betraying his calm voice, already stepping away and pulling his own t-shirt up and over his head as he walked to the stairs, confident Nick was right behind him. 

He was. As Elgar ascended, Nick reached around him, one arm going around his waist and the other hand pinching at his nipple. Elgar’s cock twitched in the rush to fill out. 

At the top of the stairs Elgar pushed Nick into the wall, kissing him thoroughly and running his hands through his messy locks, through his thick chest hair, and up and down his sensitive flanks. They stumbled over each other on the way to their room.

Once inside, with the door firmly shut to avoid the dogs bothering them, they shucked off their jeans and shorts. Nick’s bum was perky and cute in his bright pink briefs and Elgar couldn’t resist grabbing one cheek in each hand and kneading. Nick swatted his hands away. 

“Bed, come on. Fuck me.” 

Nick tossed his pants in the general direction of the hamper and grabbed Elgar’s waistband, yanking down his boxers and then tossing them aside as well. They tumbled into bed, Elgar pinning Nick down with his thick thighs and wide chest. 

Elgar couldn’t stop touching Nick, reclaiming what was his. He kept picturing Louis’ small hands on Nick’s chest, at the dip of his waist, wrapped around Nick’s cock. Elgar’s hands were so much bigger. He imagined Louis’ hands on his own skin, how tentative and slow he’d learn Elgar’s body. He kissed Nick until he was breathless, gasping for air and rutting against Nick’s thigh, suddenly so much closer to coming than he wanted to be. He sat up, straddling Nick’s hips and wrapped a hand tight around the base of his dick. 

“Baby,” Nick whined, pressing into his touch. “I’m so hard.”

“I know.” Elgar took a steadying breath and shuffled down, wrapping his lips around Nick’s dick as Nick, free from Elgar’s pressing weight, twisted and found the lube in the bedside table. 

Nick hit him in the shoulder with the bottle until Elgar took the hint and pulled off, licking his lips and staring down at Nick, flushed and laid out for him. 

He was too keyed up for a leisurely prep, and after lubing his fingers and wiping the excess along Nick’s puckered rim, he pushed two fingers in. 

Nick cried out with a high-pitched moan, scrabbling for purchase on Elgar’s shoulder. 

“You alright, babe?”

“Yes,” he sighed. He cried out again as Elgar opened him quickly. “Hurry. Want you. Want you to fuck me into the mattress.”

Elgar bit Nick’s inner thigh as Nick slowly stroked himself, keeping himself hard through the hasty prep. 

“Need more?” 

When it was just them, their lovemaking was normally far more lazy and lingering with giggles and whispered declarations. Over their time together they had fallen into an easy, comfortable routine. But this brought back memories of their first few nights together, when passion and heat ruled and they couldn’t get off fast enough. 

Elgar poured more lube on his fingers and slicked himself up, wiping the extra on the sheets. Nick hooked his heels around Elgar’s waist, kicking gently and whining for him to “get on with it already.” 

Elgar pressed forward in one smooth motion and bottomed out, falling on top of Nick and propping himself up on his forearms on either side of Nick’s head. “Fuck,” Nick whined as he arched into it, wincing a little. “Have you always been this big?”

It really had been a while. Elgar stilled. “Do I need to open you more?” 

Nick shook his head as he tightened his thighs around Elgar’s body, urging him to move.

“You sure?” 

“Come on, fuck me.”

Elgar did as he was told, slowly pulling back before sliding in with enough force to make Nick’s eyes roll back into his head. He started thrusting with a singular focus: to get Nick off before he came. His hips pistoned as he resumed kissing Nick. He had never been with anyone who was as great a kisser as Nick. He could spend entire evenings wrapped up in Nick’s arms with nothing but the taste and feeling of Nick’s mouth on his. 

He felt as though he were devouring Nick. He lifted Nick’s bony hips and pulled back enough to watch himself pound steadily into Nick. Sweat rolled down Elgar’s back and his chest as Nick fisted the sheets around him, rocking up to meet his every thrust. 

His mind wandered for a moment and he wondered how well Louis took cock and, remembering his questioning looks and flushed cheeks, wondered if he ever had before, if he’d be loud and unashamed or if he’d try to bite down on how good it felt. What he would look like falling to pieces under Elgar’s body, around Elgar’s cock.

Nick groaned, bringing Elgar’s focus back around. “Baby. Baby. I’m gonna—” 

Elgar reached down and fisted Nick’s cock, tugging until he splurted all over Elgar’s fist and his own pubic hair. He slowed his thrusting as Nick came down, but Nick whined and shook his head. “No, babe, no. Keep going. Keep…”

“Hon, you’re gonna—”

“Don’t care. Please. Don’t stop.” Nick hooked his arm around Elgar’s neck, pulling him close, and too impatient to wait, sat up to meet him in a bruising kiss.

Unable to resist, Elgar fell forward, and fucked deep into Nick. “Tell if it’s too much, yeah?”

“’S not,” Nick slurred. “Just fuck me.”

Elgar continued thrusting, rocking into Nick, over and over, as Nick scratched lines of pain into his shoulders. He wanted to do this forever: feel Nick’s slick sweat on his skin as they crashed together, smell Nick’s come from his overwhelming pleasure, taste Nick’s desperation as he bucked and grappled and gave as good as he got. Moving faster and faster, as one, Elgar tried to hold off as his own orgasm chased him down. He lost himself in the building sensation of his rapidly accumulating pleasure and after a long moment on the precipice, he fell to the other side, Nick’s name pulled from his lips. As he spilled into Nick and shuddered through the aftershocks, he held on for dear life. 

He finally slowed as he tried to catch his breath and wiped the sweat from his brow. He pushed himself fully back into Nick a few times, wringing out the last bits of pleasure before slipping out and collapsing on top of him. 

“Holy hell,” Nick laughed breathlessly, slumping back against the mattress with a dazed smile. “What the fuck was that?”

Elgar buried his head in Nick’s armpit, basking in his scent. “Sorry. Was that too—”

Nick’s hands came into Elgar’s hair, ruffling the short strands gently. “No. No. That was exactly what I needed.”

“You would’ve told me if—”

Nick swatted at his back. “Of course.” Their chests heaved together. Elgar didn’t want to be anywhere but pressed right up against Nick. “I don’t know what… Tonight, I mean, I was so hard up for it.”

Elgar hummed and thought about Louis bouncing on the dance floor and how often Elgar had needed to subtly adjust himself. “Yeah, me too. Just one of those nights, I guess.” 

If Nick asked, he would’ve happily gotten up without complaint and cleaned them off, but Nick clung to him and was snoring in just a few minutes.

  


***

  


Nick stretched as he woke up, the soreness in his arse reminding him of the fucking fantastic dicking he’d gotten the night before. Whatever had come over Elgar, Nick was ready to sign up for more; it had been a very long time since he’d last been fucked so thoroughly. 

It was still dark out. He turned over and flopped an arm on top of Elgar. He was solid and comforting beside him, even as he laid there sleeping, unaware of Nick spooning him. Nick nuzzled his nose against the “EJ” tattoo at the top of Elgar’s spine. He loved when Elgar smelled of sweat and sex and him. 

Nick’s body felt like he’d love another few hours of sleep, but his mind was already up and active and that meant sleep was a hopeless cause. He kissed the back of Elgar’s head and rolled out of bed with a yawn. 

After pulling on a worn pair of sweats and a thick hoodie, brushing his teeth and quickly washing his face, Nick softly closed the bedroom door. He thumped down the stairs and the dogs ran over, jumping on him and clamoring for his attention. 

He started the coffee after letting them out, and then after wrapping the afghan from the back of their sofa around his shoulders, he joined them in the garden with his steaming mug. He sat and threw them ball after ball and watched the sky turn from pinks to oranges as the sun rose. 

Nick thought of Louis again, sighing guiltily to himself. It was like the kid had imprinted himself on Nick’s brain or something. The odds of Nick flirting with the same person that Elgar had talked about nonstop for days seemed impossible. Of all the lads in London. 

The inch of skin above his waistband that appeared when he raised his arms in an approximation of a dance move. His smug face when he pulled out his phone and proved Nick wrong in a battle of songwriting knowledge. The pure joy on his face when he notched his head back in laughter. Elgar had been going on and on about this kid, but only that he had a really good feeling about his modeling talent. Not how infectious his smile was or how he seemed to be oblivious to the fact that he could have anyone he wanted eating out of his hand.

But as much as he loved Elgar, and he loved Elgar more than he had ever thought possible, this happened occasionally: some pretty, shiny guy would arrive at their lives and one or both of them would get momentarily distracted. 

They were only human. It didn’t mean anything.

After a day or two, Nick knew that his—and Elgar’s—interest in this kid would wane. Between all the models and celebrities and other beautiful, interesting industry people that the two of them came across, flares of interest sparked. They never lasted though, not the way Nick and Elgar’s own love and desire for each other had burned bright for years. A little infatuation couldn’t hold a candle to a committed, loving relationship. 

They were planning a wedding, for fuck’s sakes. So, Louis would definitely be disappearing from Nick’s mind any moment now.

And he was Elgar’s colleague, and that felt out of bounds, even for them.

With a groan, he elongated and popped his back. Fuck, he was getting old. He hunched back over in his normal slouch and lit a cig. Even with Breakfast Show hours, he used to love a good lie in, but he found himself getting antsy lying around recently. He was becoming good friends with the birds chirping goodbye to the moon. 

He was starting to get it, what his dad had seen in the morning.

He’d have to remember to call his mum and tell her. She’d get a kick out of that.

Halfway through the smoke, he pulled out his phone, snapped the sky for his Instagram story, then called Harry.

“Nicholas Grimshaw! What’s happening?”

“Henry Stars! Where in the world are you?”

“Los Angeles. Getting ready to go out, actually.”

“Oh. Go! Go! I’ll talk to you later.” Nick was going to bum him out if he made Harry sit around and listen to his moping.

“You thinking about your dad?” 

“Are you a mind reader now or am I that predictable?” Maybe he’d go out and get his nipple pierced today—that was the kind of thing kids these days did to be spontaneous, Nick was pretty sure. 

“Mum and I had a good cry over Robin today, if it makes you feel any better.”

Nick laughed. “It does, actually. How is Anne?”

“Good. She asked when you were going to visit her. She misses you.”

“She has my number,” Nick squawked. “She doesn’t need to go through you to see me!”

“I’ll remind her.”

They sat quietly as Nick took the last drag from the cig then stubbed it out.

“You doing okay though?” Harry asked softly.

“Yeah, yeah. I couldn’t sleep and came out with the dogs and got all melancholy with the sunrise. I’m good.”

“You’re getting sappy in your old age.”

“Oi!”

“Okay, you sad sack, tell me something fun that happened recently before I start sobbing into my champagne.”

Nick told him about Louis and how hot he was and much fun he’d had. Lovely Louis, who would absolutely hate that nickname. Nick snickered and placed the nugget in the back of his brain in case he ever got the chance to rile him up again. 

Then Harry told him all about his newest paramour, Nick Jonas, and what a good lay he was. 

They talked until Harry really did have to go or he’d miss his party, and Nick was hungry enough to consider making himself a full English. They hung up after exchanging far too many goodbyes and promises to talk later. 

Nick pulled the blanket tight around his shoulder and gave himself two more minutes to enjoy the garden.

Elgar ambled outside, bleary-eyed but with two cups of coffee. He set one in front of Nick, kissed the top of his head, and collapsed into another chair without a word. 

Elgar was dressed only in a tiny pair of running shorts. His body was still insane even though he hadn’t properly modeled in years. Nick wanted to nuzzle into his six-pack. 

“Morning,” Nick said before clearing his throat. 

“Hmm,” Elgar eloquently added while rubbing his eyes. “What’s Harry got to say?” Elgar claimed he wasn’t interested in idle gossip, but that was a blatant lie that Nick called him out on every time he insinuated as much. “Has he fucked all the Calvin Klein models yet this season?” 

“Who said it was Harry?”

“He’s the only one who’s up at all hours no matter where in the world he is.”

Nick laughed, then burned his tongue on the coffee. “Bugger.” He rolled his numb tongue around to try and get used to the feeling. “He’s hooking up with Nick Jonas now.”

“Damn. Nick’s hot.” Elgar looked impressed.

“And a twat.”

“Still.” Elgar kicked the ball that was at his feet. Stinky Blob lifted his head to watch it roll away, then put his head back down on his paws. “Last night was fun.”

“Yeah.” He took another sip of coffee as something to do. Louis was fun. Getting fucked into next week was fun. “Loads.”

Elgar looked like he was going to say something, but then thought better of it and continued to drink his coffee. 

Nick bit his tongue, watching the dogs wrestle with a stick. Probably the less said about the whole thing, the better. 


	2. Chapter 2

“Why did I think this was a good idea?” Elgar moaned dramatically.

Nick finished wrapping his other hand and immediately starting posing as though he’d just won the heavyweight championship. Elgar cut him off when he started humming “Eye of the Tiger.”

“How about you put your gloves on before you start celebrating?” 

Nick pulled them on then hopped from foot to foot. “This is like real proper boxing,” he said. 

“That’s the plan,” Elgar said.

“I’m going to knock you out,” Nick taunted, dancing a circle around Elgar who was pulling his gloves on. “Mama said knock you out.”

Elgar laughed at Nick’s enthusiasm. “Okay, Palooka, you’re on.” He punched his own knuckles, getting used to the weight of the bulky gloves.

“You know the worst thing about boxing?” Nick asked.

“We’re not even in the ring and you already have a worst thing?” Elgar wasn’t even surprised. 

“Yeah,” Nick posed in front of the mirror. “Impossible to take selfies.”

Elgar crowded up behind him, wrapping his arms around Nick’s waist and dropping his head on Nick’s shoulder. “Maybe if you’re really nice, the instructor will do an Insta story for you,” he said into the mirror.

“Oh, God no, EJ. I don’t want them to actually see me boxing, just like, that I’m being sporty. The actual boxing will be rubbish.”

“That’s the attitude!” Elgar joked. He kissed the side of Nick’s head. “Now put your helmet on.”

“Helmet?” Nick wailed. “But my hair!”

They left the locker room and found their instructor in the ring. Their class actually went better than Elgar thought it was going to. Although thoughts of Louis kept sneaking into his head when he should’ve been paying attention. 

Nick had him up against the ropes, maybe a little bit because Elgar let him, and he was sweaty and gorgeous and still the voice in the back of Elgar’s head wondered what Louis was doing at that exact moment. 

“Where’d ya go?” Nick asked, as he backed away and got back into the starting sparring position. The mouthguard muffled his question.

Elgar followed. “Was thinking about Louis, actually.”

“Louis? Model Louis?”

“Yep.” Elgar was surprised Nick remembered who he was.

“He was cool.”

“Yeah, he was.”

They bopped gloves then started to spar again. The instructor was yelling to them about form and Elgar was inexplicably nervous about what he wanted to say to Nick next. So he pushed what he wanted to say to the side and concentrated on his form as best as he could. 

Until Nick backed him into a corner. “What were you thinking about?” Nick asked. 

Elgar shrugged. “Just that he was a proper lad. Was a fun shoot.”

“You thinking about hiring him again?”

“Maybe.” He hadn’t gotten the sense that Louis had caught the modeling bug from the experience, unlike the first time he himself had been on set. “Was mostly thinking it’d be cool to see him again.”

“Yeah.” Nick nodded. “You have his number? Let’s hang out.”

Elgar breathed out a sigh of relief. That was easy. 

  


***

  


Words swam across the page as Louis read and reread the same sentences over and over again, with none of the content making it past his glazed eyes into his brain. 

Earlier in the day he had gotten a text from Elgar asking if he had plans for the Liverpool - West Ham match. 

Louis didn’t, because he had reading to catch up on. 

And Elgar had said that if he got his reading done, he should come over and watch. 

He had thrown his phone across the room and left it in the corner for hours. He didn’t know how to react to a text like that. It was too much for his brain to process. Avoidance and taking study breaks to smoke up with his roommates had been an excellent strategy.

Elgar was a double texter, apparently, because Louis’ phone lit up with a series of texts. Probably more like an octo? octa? texter. 

Of course he was, he had a good job and he was gorgeous and he had a famous, funny boyfriend. He could afford to octuple? text and still seem cool and like he wasn’t trying too hard. 

Louis hesitated, knowing if he picked up his phone now he was abandoning all hope of finishing his readings for the upcoming week. He tried to bargain with himself—one more chapter and then he’d let himself look.

It was hopeless. Louis slammed his book closed. 

Taking a deep breath, he finally read the messages. And before he could remind his fingers that it was an absolutely terrible idea, he texted “Sure” then wrote and deleted about three different variations of ‘Really? Is this an elaborate prank? Are you fucking with me??’ then decided to be cool himself and just ask for the address. 

Then he put his phone face down on his desk and went to bother Zayn. 

“I’m sleeping, Lou,” Zayn said through his door. 

“How’d you know it was me?”

“You knock instead of barging right in, unlike Nazim and Calvin.”

“Zaynie,” Louis whined. “You’re not asleep.” Silence. “I need help.”

A moment later the door opened enough for Zayn to pop his head out. “You’re asking for help? This must be serious.” 

“Everything okay?” Louis asked.

“Course.” Zayn frowned. “Nap ruiner,” he said under his breath.

Louis shushed him as he beckoned Zayn into his room. Zayn made himself comfortable on Louis’ desk chair, touching everything out on his desk. Louis dumped a pile of clothes from his bed to the floor then sat on the corner closest to Zayn. 

“Remember the thing you said we could forget about, if I wanted?”

Zayn nodded. 

“I don’t—the details of what we talked about are a bit sketchy—so I don’t quite…”

“You didn’t say much.” Zayn clasped his hands between his knees. “But it didn’t sound great.”

The ball of nerves stuck in Louis’ sternum grew three sizes and Louis was pretty sure he was about to vomit. His stomach clenched. This was exactly why he kept his feelings towards boys a tightly locked secret. He had hoped that Zayn would be cool about it, but clearly that wasn’t the case. He didn’t—he couldn’t—lose his friends. He swallowed down the knot and changed tactics. 

“Oh! Uh, about that, I was just joking. That’s what I meant to—what I wanted to tell you. Like, don’t worry or anything, I was totally joking…” His voice wobbled a bit; he prayed Zayn couldn’t hear it. 

Zayn’s eyebrows knitted together. “What?”

“I’m not,” Louis cleared his throat, a list of slurs running through his head that he couldn’t bring himself to say, “like that.”

“It’s okay if you are,” Zayn said slowly. “It was the entitled assholes part, that sounded like shite, not the… _you know,_ the other stuff. Whoever you’re… uh, seeing—”

“I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Okay, but like generally, if you were, regardless of if they’re… You deserve someone nice, okay. When you came home all… It just seemed like maybe whoever it was didn’t make you—”

“What?” The relief washed over him, but it seemed too good to be true. “You’re okay with it?”

“The gay?” Zayn winced. “Bi? Part? That’s… I’m shite at this and I know I’m going to bung up. I still love you, okay. Mates for life and all that.”

“Oh.”

“So it’s the other bit. Whoever it is, they need to treat you right. Fuck. Not that you’re like, a girl, or whatever. But you seemed upset and I don’t think someone like that is worth it.”

“Okay.” It was still awkward between them, the air thick with the knowledge that Zayn knew how stressed Louis was about the whole thing.

“Okay?” Zayn didn’t look convinced. “Want to talk about it? Him?”

“Them.”

Zayn’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “Them?”

“ _Them_. Don’t be weird about it. Please.”

“C’mon, Lou. You’re my mate. Tell me.”

Once Louis decided to talk, he found he couldn’t shut up. He recapped meeting Elgar and the photoshoot and then the after-party and meeting Nick and how he learned they were _together_ and the texts the day before. And admitted that he had been interested in boys before, but not like _this._ Not like he was going to spontaneously combust if either one of them got too close, like his whole body was on high alert. And how _nice_ they both were, which was the most frustrating part of it all. He could compartmentalise, normally, come up with a list of reasons why the guys he had been interested in weren’t worth the trouble of coming out to anyone. But these two, other than them already dating each other, Louis couldn’t come up with anything.

“Lou,” Zayn pinched his lip once Louis stopped talking, “this is a bad idea, you know that, right? There might not be a whole list, but they’re together and that means they’re off limits.”

“I know.” He did. But, they made him feel accepted, like they could see right into him and still wanted to be around him. He couldn’t explain that to Zayn, he’d take it the wrong way, but even if Louis knew in the long run he was going to get hurt, he craved being around others who were… like him. He could deal with the pain that came later. He’s been dealing with this stuff for years; surely this wouldn’t be so much harder to survive. 

Zayn sighed. “You’re going anyway, aren’t you?”

Louis looked to his closet. “I don’t know what to wear.”

Zayn convinced him to go in not-his-tightest pair of jeans and a fitted t-shirt. 

  
  


Once he was on the tube, Louis almost turned around about six times, but he’d told Elgar he was coming, so he did his best to put on a brave face and pretended that the thought of going to Elgar and Nick’s _home_ didn’t make him want to wee his trousers. 

He brought his hand up to knock on their door, but his hand was shaking too much, so he shook his wrists out as he took a deep breath. He could totally do this. Despite the shakes he raised his hand again but before he could knock the door swung open and Elgar was standing there with a confused look his face. 

“Planning on a ding-dong-ditch?”

“’M not a kid.”

“You’ve been stood out here like you’re about flee for the last five minutes,” Elgar said, his eyes smiling. “Aren’t you cold? Come in.”

Louis ducked his head as he felt the blush rise on his cheeks. “Soz.”

“It’s alright. I don’t bite.” 

Elgar turned and walked further into the house. Louis followed, closing the door behind him. There was a neat row of shoes next to the door and Louis wondered whether to take off his own. His slip-on Vans were ancient; the right one had a hole where his pinky toe rubbed through, they were dirty, and since he never wore socks they smelled. His flatmates had gotten used to it, but with mopped white tile and no dust bunnies in the corners and flickering, scented candles on the foyer table, shoes were probably discarded once they were a little worn, let alone tattered and smelly.

“Should I take my shoes off?” Louis asked loudly. 

He was aware of his two not great options: leave his very out of place shoes here and torture Elgar with his smelly feet, or keep them on and hope the rest of the house wasn’t quite as immaculate as the foyer. Fleeing was a third, and potentially the best, option.

“Whatever you like. We’re not picky.” 

Louis decided to keep them on. 

The living room was gorgeous, lived-in but not dingy like Louis’ own. The walls were a warm grey and the L-shaped purple-ish sofa looked soft and expensive, with a bunch of pillows and throw blankets haphazardly tossed on top. There were orange velvet chairs, art or books or photos on every inch of spare wall, and a large square table that was low-set to the ground in the center of the room. The whole place looked luxe and even before he had a drink he was scared to spill something on the soft-looking sofa. 

As he stood at the edge of the room, watching as Elgar flipped the channel to the game, the dogs, Pig and Stinky Blob, tripped over each other in their haste to get to him. He squatted down to pet them while they pawed and licked at him. Elgar glanced back and said, “If they’re annoying you, just shoo them away. Or ignore them, they’ll get bored if you don’t give them attention.” Elgar let out a breathy laugh. “Nick’s dogs.” 

“I love dogs,” Louis enthused. “They won’t bother me at all.” He gave them each another scratch behind the ears, then stood straight again. 

When Elgar turned back to Louis, Louis couldn't read the expression on his face. “I’m gonna get us some beers. Sit. Make yourself comfortable,” Elgar said after a long moment.

“K.” 

Elgar gave Louis’ back a little pat as he walked by, and Louis was left alone to gape at his new surroundings. He sat gingerly on the edge of the sofa, feet planted solidly on the rug, with his hands between his knees. The dogs settled in at his feet. A stack of magazines on the coffee table caught his eye and he rifled through them, pulling out a _GQ_ since it was the only title he knew. He flipped through, eyes scanning the adverts and the editorial spreads (there was a rush of pride at his knowing that term now). 

He stopped at an article about lad culture and track suits. 

Elgar came back with his hands full and Louis flushed at being caught out reading about fashion. Elgar put a beer on a coaster in front of Louis, the bowl of crisps next to it and then, out of all the seats in the room, sat down right next to Louis. 

“Thanks,” Louis said, nodding.

“What do you think?”

“About what?”

Elgar motioned toward the magazine in his hand. 

“Oh. Uh. I don’t know about fashion or, uh, _style_ or whatever, but I like this.”

Elgar gave a small, almost coaxing smile. “Okay.”

“And,” Louis cleared this throat, “It’s interesting, what it says about the uh, signifiers? Of masculinity and class and trying to find a new identity despite what the media, or whatever, tells you you should be.” Louis ran a finger down a picture of a group of lads who, other than the designer names emblazoned across their chests, could be him and his friends. “I’ve never really thought about that. Just like, you know, like the clothes. But it all makes sense.”

Elgar’s eyes were crinkled at the corners from his smile. He pulled the magazine out of Louis’ hands and put it on top of the pile of others. 

“You really liked it?” Elgar asked. 

“Yeah, it’s like, me, you know?” Louis looked up from his hands and at Elgar, who looked pleased at Louis’ reaction. “I’ve never heard of that Russian guy or like that list of designers, but the footie stuff and the, uh, sadness—like, what do we have, you know?—Sorry, I don’t really know.” He was all tongue-tied. The article was so clear but trying to sum it up while Elgar was looking at him like that. “It just reminded me of like, me? That probably doesn’t make sense.”

“No. You’re fine. That’s, uh, great. I’m really glad to hear that you saw yourself in some of it; that it makes sense. I, uh, wrote it.” He ducked his head and ran a hand over his close-cut hair. “And styled it.”

“No fucking way.” Louis was in awe. “That’s really… smart.”

Elgar looked back up at him with a small smile, and Louis felt his cheeks heat as Elgar’s eyes lingered on his face.

Louis swallowed dryly and reminded himself that Elgar was capital ‘T’ Taken. “Uh, think the game’s about to start.”

They watched the first few minutes in silence, other than the announcers and the crinkling of aluminum when Louis squeezed his beer too hard. Elgar nudged Louis’ knee with his own, and Louis looked down to where they were still touching. He told himself to move away, then stayed as still as a statue. 

“Reckon they’ve got a chance at the cup this year?” Elgar asked. 

“Huh?” Louis asked as he turned to Elgar. Elgar was looking at his mouth, and Louis dropped his eyes to Elgar’s lips, wondered briefly and fruitlessly what they would feel like on his, then snapped his head back to the telly. “Maybe. If Mané doesn’t stuff up his knee again.”

Louis was tense until Liverpool scored and Elgar jumped to his feet, upending the bowl of crisps. The dogs immediately claimed the ones that weren’t underfoot. Louis couldn’t stop giggling at Elgar’s celebration dance, and then at his dawning realisation that he was grinding the crumbs into the rug.

“Oi! It’s gonna be hands and knees for two days straight!” Louis crowed. 

Elgar threw one at him when he was on his knees sweeping the rest of them back into the bowl, and shooing the dogs away. Louis cheekily smiled at the disgusting look Elgar gave him after he had popped it into his mouth. 

After that, he relaxed back into the sofa and they bantered their way through the rest of the game. Elgar turned it off as soon as the ref blew the final whistle, not waiting to hear any of the post-game commentary. He sat back with his hands behind his head and Louis wanted to curl into his side. 

“Staying for tea?” Elgar asked, eyebrows raised. 

Louis scratched the inside of his knee. “Where’s Nick?”

“Oh!” Elgar looked at his watch. Christ, he wore an actual watch, even sitting around watching footie. “Um, should be home soon, actually.”

Louis’ knee bounced. The day had been a lot and Louis wasn’t sure how much longer he could sit and look at Elgar without reaching out and touching. Having Elgar make tea for him would probably push Louis right over the edge. If Nick was coming back, to their house, soon, Louis needed to not be there. 

“Promised my mate Zayn that we’d study together tonight.” Louis gave him a weak smile. “But thanks for today. Was loads of fun.”

“Sure you don’t want to stay a bit longer?” Elgar asked. “Could do a bacon sarnie?”

“I really should go.” Louis stood up. If he allowed himself, he’d be eating out of Elgar’s fingers. “Can I use the loo?”

The dogs looked up lazily when Elgar stood. “Yeah, course. It’s right off the hall.” He put his hand on the small of Louis’ back and led him the first few steps. “Right here.”

Louis didn’t even have to go once he got there. He put his hands over his face and silently screamed. Life was so unfair. After he took a few steadying breaths he flushed and then splashed some cold water on his face. He used one of the plush hand towels to dry off. After rolling his eyes at his reflection, he headed out. 

Elgar was in the doorway to the kitchen, speaking quietly to someone. 

He was fairly certain that person Elgar was talking to would be Nick, and though Louis knew that he had been in Nick Grimshaw’s house, seeing him there was going to make it too real for him to deal. He thought about doing a runner, but was raised better than that so he took another deep breath. “Thanks again,” Louis said as he took a step closer. 

“Who’s that then?” Nick asked. 

“Nick, you remember Louis. From the—”

“Of course I remember him.” Louis’ breath caught for a moment at the unreadable smile on Nick’s lips. The lips he was then licking. “Good to see you again,” he said with a wave. Louis couldn’t pull his eyes away from Nick’s hand. His _fingers._ “Hope the match wasn’t too boring.”

Louis remembered the way those fingers had gripped his hips on the dance floor. He knew the warmth of Nick’s damp mouth, so tantalizing close to his own when they had been pressed together. When Nick had thrown his head back in laughter at one of Louis’ jokes, Louis had been tempted to lick the sweat off his collarbones. He had ground their hips together instead. Louis had been so hard and all he wanted was to rub himself in tight little circles against Nicks’ body until he came. 

Louis looked back at Elgar. “Nah, it was aces,” Louis said. “Good snacks, comfy sofa. It’ll be hard to keep me away next week.”

“Open invitation,” Elgar said with a shrug. 

Louis was about to die of mortification. He couldn't believe he had just invited himself over again.

“It is a dead nice sofa, isn’t it.” Nick cackled. “Don’t get to spend near enough time on it if I’m honest.”

Elgar cocked his head. “Thursday? You could be home Thursday night. Get some time in with the sofa.” He smirked at Nick, and Louis watched as Elgar’s tongue peeked out and wet his lips. 

He wanted a taste.

He had to leave.

“Can’t Thursday,” Nick said, completely oblivious to Louis’ near heart attack. “Got that show, remember?”

“Oh fuck me. I don’t have to go, do I?”

“No, you don’t have to,” Nick rolled his eyes. “But Pix bailed too, so I’m stuck going alone now.” He turned to Louis with a wincing smile. “Hate going places on my own. It’s not for me.”

Elgar nudged Louis. “Hey, how about… How do you feel about post-punk trap performed by the ghosts of glam rock’s past?” 

“Uh,” Louis stalled. “Sounds… interesting?”

“Oh!” Nick ran a hand through his tall quiff. He glanced between Louis and Elgar. “Most enthusiastic answer I’ve heard, I suppose. You free on Thursday?”

“Uh.” Louis was going to need to wipe that word from his vocabulary if he was going to keep hanging out with these two. Which he apparently was. “Yeah, don’t think I have anything.”

“Fantastic. EJ, you have his number right?” Elgar nodded and Nick continued, “So I’ll text you?”

Christ on a cracker. “Sure yeah, okay.”

“Okay,” Nick echoed, chewing his lip. Louis couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking about last time, too. “You staying for tea?”

“No, I really do have to go.” He really did. “But thanks for having me.”

Elgar walked him to the door and enveloped him in a hug, patting his back a few times. Louis inhaled, committing his smell to his memory, then he stepped back and opened the door.

“See you Thursday, hun,” Nick called. 

Louis’ cheeks flushed. _Hun._ He walked out, feeling only a little bit guilty that his only plan for the rest of the night was to go home for a thorough wank.

  


***

  


The concert ended earlier than Nick had planned. He knew that he should be getting home to see Elgar (earlier in the day Elgar had been recording _Strike!_ with some well-known footie player who Elgar had been ecstatic about booking and Nick had never heard of) but Louis had been running late and had barely got a chance to say hello before the show started.

Louis was grinning from ear to ear and bouncing in place, still full of energy after bopping to the music all night. He was sweaty and flushed from the overcrowded venue, his damp shirt clung to his chest, and his jeans hung low on his hips, exposing the waistband of his Hanes. Even if Nick couldn’t touch, there was no harm in spending a few extra minutes with him. “You going to stay for another drink with me, then, or d’you have an early start tomorrow?”

Louis shook his head, then pulled his fringe to one side. “I can stay for one more. I guarantee you get up earlier than I do.”

The club was emptying out, so Nick easily flagged down a bartender. “What do you want, Louis?”

Louis rose to his toes and looked down the bar to the taps. He looked hesitant as he surveyed the labels—all local microbreweries and exclusive imported beers. “Whatever’s cheapest. On tap.” He counted the bills in his wallet.

The bartender nodded. “Two?”

“I’ll have a negroni,” Nick said. 

Nick turned and covered Louis’ hand with his own, gently pushing away his wallet. “I got this round,” Nick said, before Louis could protest. He’d get all the rounds, actually, if Louis would stay for more than one. 

Louis’ face made a funny little ‘V’. “I’ll get the next one, though, promise. And thanks for putting me on the list. They were sick.”

“I thought you might like them. I’m glad you could make it.” 

Their drinks appeared and Nick paid as Louis took a long gulp. 

“What’s that?” Louis asked, turning up his nose, as Nick took a sip of his scarlet drink. 

After explaining what went into it, Nick’s brain totally went blank and he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. The panic only made it worse and it was amazing that he talked for a living and suddenly when it was important he couldn’t think of a single thing. 

“How’d you hear about the band?” Louis asked, saving him from having to dig a ditch in which to lie in and die. 

“My mate Pixie and I drove to Hertfordshire last weekend. One of their songs was on a Spotify mix and we couldn’t get enough. Kept replaying it. Finally clicked over to the band and then listened to the EP over and over again for the rest of the trip. Thrilling, innit?”

“What the fuck is in Hertfordshire?”

Nick blurted out a laugh. “An antiques shop.”

Louis laughed into his half-drunk beer. “Of course, yes. That makes perfect sense.” After he swallowed he looked back up at Nick. “What were you looking for?”

“A carousel horse.” Nick was laughing at himself just as much as Louis was. “I know how it sounds.”

“At least you’re aware, mate.”

One beer turned into three.

The mid-90s BritPop mix the bartender was playing was loud, so Nick and Louis kept having to duck into each other’s space to hear what the other was saying. The first few bars of “Glycerine” played and Louis squealed. His cheeks pinkened. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” Louis asked.

“I’m an excellent secret-keeper.”

Louis dipped in close to Nick’s ear. His breath on Nick’s skin sent a shiver of goosebumps down his spine, and Nick placed a hand on the small of Louis’ waist to help steady him. 

“When I hit puberty, I had the biggest crush on Gavin Rossdale.”

“That’s your secret?” Nick squeezed Louis’ waist and turned his head to talk into Louis’ ear. “Pretty sure the whole world has had a crush on him.”

Louis sat back and balanced himself on the stool before he shrugged. “Whatever.” He spoke loud enough to be heard over the music. “He was like, my first wanking material.”

Nick groaned. He really, really did not need that exceedingly hot image. Louis’ eyes were so bright and his hairline was dark with sweat and Nick forced himself to look away and gulp down some of his drink. He was crunching on a piece of ice and repeating to himself that Gavin was Daisy’s _dad_ and definitely no longer wanking material. When he turned back to Louis, Louis was chewing on his bottom lip and staring at Nick’s mouth.

Someone walking by jostled Louis, pushing him into Nick.

“Your lips are so pink,” Louis said. Nick’s dick twitched at the feeling of Louis pressed up against him. He tried to subtly an inch of space between them. “Cuz of, like, your drink.” Nick gave a hysterical little laugh. It was late and they had enough to drink and he really needed to be getting home.

But then Blur’s “Song 2” came on and Louis took a step back, putting one hand in the air and scream-singing “whoohoo” with about half of the bar. He was swinging his body to the beat and his hair was falling into his eyes, and Nick flagged down the bartender for two glasses of water.

Louis looked over at Nick and flashed him a huge smile. Nick couldn’t help but be charmed and smiled right back. He ran a hand through his flat hair and then joined in on the next chorus. 

By the end of the night, despite having most of the bar to themselves, Louis was all but standing between Nick’s legs as he was sat on the barstool. He kept putting his hand on Nick’s thigh, right above his knee and Nick kept having to hide his sharp inhale every time it happened. 

Everything in Nick’s body was screaming for him to wrap his legs around the boy and drag him closer. Every brush of their hands, every crinkle of Louis’ eyes, every hot breath ghosting across his skin sent Nick into a cyclone of emotion. He’d already been lowkey antsy during most of the night, and varying levels of hard since after the set ended, and once he was debating whether or not to excuse himself to the loo to give himself a squeeze and the briefest respite from the built up pressure, he knew that he had to remove himself from the situation.

He couldn’t draw himself away from Louis. He couldn’t stop _looking._ Nick knew then what Elgar had been feeling the day when Nick arrived home to find Louis in their house. Elgar had scarcely been breathing, let alone blinking, when in Louis’ presence. 

Elgar was at home. Nick wondered if he was watching the highlights on Sky Sports or if he was already asleep in his half of their bed. He pulled his phone of out his pocket to check the time, but he couldn't focus with the way Louis leaned in to say something, his cheeks flushed and sharp canines digging into his lower lip. The static in the air was white noise in his ears and all his other senses were consumed by Louis. Nick pulled back to get a hold of himself and Louis’ face momentarily sobered. Nick needed to get home. He leaned in to say as much, and the corners their mouths brushed by accident.

He stood up abruptly, causing Louis to stumble back a few steps.

“It’s getting late,” Nick said. He cleared his throat. “I, uh, should go.”

Louis took another step back. “Yeah, of course.”

Louis quickly chugged the rest of his pint and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Nick wanted to crowd against him and smell the nape of his neck, where his hair was curling from the sweat and humidity. 

He needed to get home.

Without looking back at Nick, Louis walked to the door. Nick followed, lingering outside as Louis lit up two cigarettes then passed one over.

The night air was cool and Nick broke out in goosebumps. He rubbed his hands over his arms while Louis rocked back on his heels. 

“Thanks again,” Louis said. “For the… everything.” He dug his hands in his pockets. 

“We should do it again,” Nick said. 

People walked around them as they stood awkwardly facing each other. Unless he had mucked it up terribly, there was a good chance he’d see Louis again, especially since Louis was Elgar’s new golden child. Elgar’d kill him if he managed to muck it up.

“Okay. I’m going to—the tube’s that way.” Louis lifted a hand and poked a thumb behind his ear. 

“Yeah,” Nick fumbled for his phone. “Uber.”

“Okay,” Louis repeated. 

“Okay. Give us a hug, then.” 

Nick shoved his phone back in his pocket before stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Louis. Louis stilled for a moment before he relaxed a bit and gave Nick a few pats on the back. The problem was that Louis’ hair smelled too good, and Nick didn’t want to let go. Louis stopped patting and after a quick moment of his hands just resting on Nick’s back, he gave Nick a squeeze.

Nick let go, but before pulling away totally, he ducked in and gave Louis a kiss on the cheek. Or, he meant to, he told himself, even as he missed and mostly caught Louis’ mouth. 

It might have been Nick’s imagination that there was an echo of the kiss on Louis’ end too. Or a reflex on his part. Or nothing but wishful thinking on Nick’s. 

At any rate, they both pulled in a shaky breath, and as Louis abruptly turned and walked away, all Nick could think about was that Elgar was definitely going to kill him if Louis was spooked.

  


***

  


Louis had too many emotions welling up inside of him and he felt like a volcano ready to erupt. So he did what he always did in these moments: he FaceTimed his mum.

She answered and he sat crossed-leg in the middle of his unmade bed. There was shuffling as she made her way into the kitchen. 

“Hey Boo Bear,” she said as she got situated on a stool at the breakfast nook. “Calling so late. Guess I should make meself comfortable? Get a cuppa?”

Louis shrugged. His mum always gently pulled the information from him. No need to rush in.

“How’re the lads?” she asked.

“Fine. They’re smoking out the living room.”

“And my son’s not joining in?” She chuckled quietly. “Something must really be wrong.”

“It’s shite. Fucking Calvin and his awful shake. If it was the good stuff that’d be a different story.”

She put the phone down. “Is it boy trouble?” Louis watched her kitchen ceiling as she clattered through the kitchen, filling the kettle and pulling out a mug.

“Sorta.”

“Sounds like there’s a story there.”

His mum had been the first person he’d come out to, ages ago. She was the only one that knew about the rushed hand jobs after footie practice with the backup goalie. The only one he had told about the dingy loo hookups and the only one who had talked him back from the shame and the heartache and promised that there was someone for him, even as she gave up on love herself. 

“You know Nick Grimshaw?”

“Off Radio One?”

“Off Radio One. He kissed me, I think?” He shook his head at how daft he sounded. 

The kitchen tilted and she was upside down for a moment before she spun right side up. “Louis William Tomlinson. What are you doing in the same place as Nick Grimshaw off Radio One?” She had a wrinkle between her brows that Louis hated. It meant she was _worried_.

“Remember that photo shoot?”

“The one we thought might a porn?”

Louis laughed. Not long ago his biggest concern had been that the posh bloke laying bit on thick wanted to pay him for nudie pics. Now he was concerned he’d somehow ended up in the middle of a love triangle between two influential media personalities. It had been a wild few weeks. 

“I haven’t seen the pictures yet but he said they look great. It’s still weird that my face is going to be in a magazine. Oh, and he said I can get a free copy for you, so you don’t have to spend—”

She rolled her eyes. “I can afford a magazine—”

“No. I know mum. But you don’t have to.”

“What does this have to do with Nick bloody Grimshaw?”

“Remember when I went to that party? That guy that turned me down?”

“Yeah…”

Louis put his phone down. He loved his mum more than anything but some things were easier to say when he wasn’t actually looking at her. 

“Louis, did you proposition Nick Grimshaw off Radio One?”

“Might’ve,” he squeaked.

“So he kissed you on the dance floor?”

“No. He kissed me tonight.”

“Right. He rejected you and then somehow you crossed paths again and this time he kissed you. He didn’t give you crabs, did he?”

“Mother! No.” He picked up the phone so she could see the horror on his face. “Was just a kiss. Not even, like, tongue.”

“Why are you home and calling me instead of staying out until morning and kissing without tongue some more?” 

“He’s engaged.” She gasped. “To Elgar, the bloke that hired me for the magazine.”

“Louis.”

“Mum, I know—”

“No, Louis, I want you to listen very closely. I know I’m just your bloody mum and you’re a grown up and can do whatever you want. But I am telling you, this is not something you want to get involved in.”

“I know.”

“Do you though?”

“Yeah. It’s why I’m all…” He waved his hand around. “I don’t know what. But I fancy them. It’s shit.”

“You’ll never know what’s really going on between two people. It’ll be messy and you deserve better than that, honey.”

His brain knew that she was right, but his heart was still fighting it. “It’s not only the wanting to kiss them thing,” he tried to explain. 

“Kissing?” 

He rolled his eyes at her smirk. 

“I feel different around them. Like there’s a… possibility of a different life.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. It’s like… there’s a future me that spends every every night hanging with lads until they get married and have families then occasionally we'll all have pub nights. But it’s steady. The same thing I’ve always done, I can keep doing that ‘til I’m old and grey.”

“And what’s wrong with that, your steady, greying mum wants to know.” There was a glint of humour in her eye. 

“Nothing! Not really. But now, it’s like, I could step onto this other path where I get to see cool bands before they’re mainstream and talk fashion with an actual fashion editor, and like, it’s like my opinions are important.”

“Oh baby, your opinions are important.”

“Mum. Stop it. I know. The first path would be fine. Of course. I’m not putting it down. But it feels like there’s a chance to do something different. Like I could _be_ someone different.”

His mum took a long sip of tea. She measured him with her eyes over her mug the way only a mum can. “What kind of person could you be?”

Louis looks across his room at the stack of textbooks, at the Victoria’s Secret catalogue carefully placed on top of his _Men’s Health_ and _Esquire_ Magazines. "They're the only other like, gay, or whatever, people I've ever known, and they're out and it's fine and it's okay, and it makes me feel like it's okay for me, too."

“Oh, baby.”

“I’m fine. It’s fine.” He flapped his hand around. “And I don’t know if it’s because they’re, like, cool celebrities, or because I’m now wondering if I could _achieve_ something, or just the gay thing, but…” He looked enviously at his mum’s tea. He’d need one after this conversation. Maybe with a nip of whisky. “I know I’m going to get hurt. I know this doesn’t end well for me, pretending I’m their equal, but I just want to pretend for a little bit. Then I can go back to being me.” If they even talked to him again after tonight.

“Louis,” she was using her stern mum voice, “you are absolutely their equal. In every way. Don’t—”

“Okay, mum, I know. I know.” He loved her something fierce.

“Okay, love. And you’re just as stubborn as me. I’m here, just a phone call away, any time you need me. You deserve the world.”

They eventually hung up and Louis allowed himself to think about how he had the greatest mum of all time, before picking himself up and making himself a cuppa. 

  


***

  


Elgar glanced again at the manila folder on his desk reading _FEB PICKS - to review asap,_ and ignored it in favour of answering his backlog of emails.

Nick was being weird. Nick was always a little bit weird, but even for Nick, he was being weird. He’d come home unexpectedly late last night, stayed up even later to do some work and had already been gone by the time Elgar woke up. He’d been unusually scattered all morning on air and Elgar’s earlier text of _Missed you last night, babe. How was the show?_ was still going unanswered.

Elgar knew who he’d gone to the show with last night and was dying to hear the details. 

None of the emails were quick responses. He forwarded a few invites to Nathan, who’d check them against his schedule, but the rest of them were things he’d have to actually think about. Opinions on Marc Jacob’s newest line, and if he could design a shoe for Nike what would it look like, and did he want to fly to America for the next Met Ball. His jaw clicked as he worked through what his life must look like from the outside. As if he’d fit in at the Met Ball. 

The worst email was the one that he had ignored for way too long. The red exclamation point taunted him as did the subject line: Pls review the folder on your desk by end of day.

Elgar tapped his fingers against it, considering. 

Then surrendering with a sigh, he opened it up. 

The top-most picture had him closing the folder. 

He rubbed his temples, then opened it again, better prepared.

Louis was in the Kappa hoodie, and between the hood and the shadows, only half his face was visible. His hand was yanking the neckline and he was staring directly at the camera. It was intense and relaxed, sultry and innocent, serious without being dramatic. 

Elgar was intrigued. And hard. He swiped his thumb across the stubble on Louis’ face. His other hand slid beneath the desk so he could cup himself. Hot shame churned in his stomach. He was at work. Where he was not supposed to be feeling himself up and ogling the models. He dug his palm into the hard length of his dick to try and ease some of the mounting pressure.

He pulled his hand away and snapped his head up at a commotion in the hall. He snapped the folder shut, sliding it away from himself, and thought about his nan.

After he had gotten a hold of himself, he sent Nathan a direct message, requesting a tea the next time he walked by. Then he stared out the window at the building across the street.

When Nick’s reply finally came, he studied it for ages, a little unsure of how to respond. _Show was interesting. Tell you more tonight if you can make dinner._

_Interesting._ Concerts were never interesting to Nick. They were _fucking amazing_ or _the worst fucking drivel I’ve ever heard_ , and very occasionally _bored to tears_. 

_Interesting_ was odd. Interesting was different. Interesting meant he was thinking and not feeling. But Nick _felt_ more than anyone Elgar knew. He felt passionately about almost everything and had never shied away from being dramatic about his feelings. Once Elgar had come across a tumblr post that had him cackling; it was a list of all the things Nick had said he _hated_ through the years. It included: coloured plates, teenagers who drink coffee, popstars thanking him, posh food, the option “don’t know” on a poll, and hobbies. _Hobbies!_ And the list of things he absolutely loved was even more wild and various. 

Nathan, eager as ever, knocked loudly as he entered the office with Elgar’s tea. He waited as Elgar took a sip. 

“Perfect, as always. You make a lovely cuppa, thank you.” 

“Did you see my third email reminding you about—”

“Yes,” Elgar sighed, glancing guiltily at the manila folder again. “I’ll get to it shortly, promise.”

“You’re avoiding it,” Nathan pointed out, as though that needed to be pointed out. He tidied up the clutter on the coffee table and fluffed the pillows on his sofa. “Something wrong?”

“No,” Elgar lied. “Just… Nick. It’ll be fine, we’re having a quiet night in tonight to sort some things out. Hey, you got anywhere to be in the next hour?”

“No?”

Elgar put a possessive hand on the folder. It was a fairly terrible idea, opening it in front of someone else, but also it would probably stop him from doing something even more terrible, like having a raw and furtive wank under his desk. Nathan might be good moral support, at the very least.

“Might need some help.” He ran a finger along the open edge of the folder. “Just to work out the editorial. Fresh pair of eyes, if you don’t mind.”

“Me? I can get someone else—”

“No. Well. I don’t know.” Nathan tilted his head in confusion. Elgar plowed on, “You like it here? Magazine life okay so far, other than the shite pay and awful hours?”

“Yeah. It’s. I’ve learned a lot.” 

Elgar didn’t believe him. “You haven’t. But come on. Let’s change that.” He took a deep breath and lifted the Post-it off the front, ‘Feb. Louis Tomlinson.’ scribbled in the Photo Editor’s hand. He crumpled it up and tossed it in the bin before he had a chance to scratch at Louis’ name for the hundredth time since the folder had been dropped off. “I haven’t really looked at them yet. I thought we could do it together.” Elgar was already pulling over a chair. “You get some critique experience. I get a fresh set of eyes.”

Hiring Louis had been a terrible, indulgent decision. There was no way he could be objective.

Nathan nodded, pulling up a seat beside him. “That’d be brilliant.”

Elgar opened the folder, taking a shaky breath that he hoped Nathan would miss. Louis hadn’t left his thoughts over the past few weeks, and seeing his face gave him butterflies all over again. And, _fuck,_ he was too old for these feelings.

“Shit,” Nathan breathed. “That’s the kid from the skate park, isn’t it?” He picked the photo up to inspect it closer. “Wow, your instincts were _on point_.”

“Yeah?” Elgar asked, grateful when his voice didn’t waver. “Help me pick the best ones?

  


***

  


The moment Nick got home from the studio, the day after the concert, he called Harry. Bypassing a greeting, he confessed, “Haz, I fucked up.”

“Sure.” Harry sounded bored, like he wasn’t at all concerned that Nick had just destroyed his entire life. “What’d you do this time?”

“There’s a guy.”

“There’s always a guy. Is it Jake Gyllenhaal this time?”

“Of course not. His people said that he was too busy this promo tour but maybe next time.”

“He’s said that every time,” Harry said in his syrupy slow voice.

“’M never gonna get a shot with Jake, am I?”

“Probably not, since Elgar’s not into him.”

It really was such a shame. “Yeah.”

“Is that the issue? Elgar’s not into this guy and you pushed too hard?” Harry told whoever he was next to that he was talking to Nick. “You haven’t fucked anything up. You two always get over that.”

“No. Elgar, Christ, I think Elgar might be into him too.”

It was hard to know, really. Elgar hadn’t said anything so maybe he really did just see him as a new friend. Nick threw himself back on the sofa so he was staring at the ceiling.

“Shit. No, Nick, tell me you did not fuck him without Elgar.”

“No.” Nick was offended that Harry would ever think that.

“Are you lying?”

“I’m not! We didn’t fuck. It was a kiss.” Nick bit his thumbnail while he waited to for Harry’s reaction.

“Jesus, Nick. Did he leave you? I mean, you did break the second rule. ‘No hooking up without the other one there,’” he sing-songed. “Had that one drilled into my head.”

“He didn’t leave me, you prick.” Nick swallowed thickly. “I mean, I haven’t told him.”

Harry let out a low whistle. “What do you mean you haven’t told him?”

“I don’t know. Do you think I need to? I mean, a kiss hardly counts.”

“I’m pretty sure a kiss counts. Can you imagine if… Okay, fuck, if Nick came back one night telling me about some bloke he kissed, I’d be… I don’t know, but like, I know I wouldn’t like it.”

It was Nick’s turn to be surprised. “Oh, I didn’t realise you two were like… serious.”

“Yeah,” Harry said quietly. “I think… you know, I think we are.”

Nick took a moment to consider the implications of that. “No more messing around then, huh.”

“No, I think… I think it’s proper good with him.” 

Nick let out a low whistle. Even Harry Styles was settling down. Nick never thought he’d see the day.

“That’s good, Haz.” Nick rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Happy for you.”

“Mmm.” Harry sighed. “So, wait, so you want to fuck him and you think Elgar does too but instead of talking about it like you always do, you two are being weird.”

The gulf between he and Elgar had grown. The every day bits were fine, but they hadn’t talked, really talked, about anything significant in a while. “Remember how awkward it was when we asked you to join us?”

Harry bark-laughed. “I remember you being awkward as fuck. Elgar was smooth as always.”

“That was good, wasn’t it? Easy?”

“It was easy. No NDAs. No strings attached. No long-term expectations.”

“Can’t believe Nick Jonas—”

Harry snickered. “You’ve got to stop calling him by his full name. It’s weird.”

“It’s weird that you’re boning Nick Jonas!” It was weird that he was _serious_ about Nick Jonas.

Harry sighed, “It’s not. But, yeah,” his voice went soft. “It’s great. Also, he takes it like no one else. Best bottom ever.” Harry squawked and it sounded like he was getting pelted with pillows. “Ah! Nick, hold on.” 

Nick listened to Harry shuffle into a more echoey room. He’d seen pictures of Harry’s en suite and made a mental note to bug Elgar about taking a trip out to LA before the year ended.

“You’re such a prick,” Nick laughed.

“Nah. He’s so fucking smug about it. God, Grimmy, the sex is _so good_.”

“Ouch. Good thing I’ve not got a sensitive ego or anything.”

“You know it was never that great with us. Good to scratch the itch. But. You and Elgar need another vers, not a toppy fuck like me. ”

“Yeah.” He knew Harry was right. He was deceptively insightful under that leather-clad rockstar exterior.

Harry said, “Okay, so you broke the first rule, not telling him that you were interested, and the second, you snogged him.” 

“Not a—” 

“Semantics. You wanted to. But if you think Elgar might be into him too, then…”

“But how I do tell him? What if he’s mad?”

“If he’s mad you’ll work through that too. You just have to talk to him. It’s that simple.”

It used to be that simple. Nick knew he had to rip the plaster off and say it. He had kissed Louis. He wanted to sleep with Louis. And he hoped Elgar would want to to. As easy as that. Nigh sighed. “Talk it out and get him in our bed.”

“It’s what I’m saying.”

“Should be your life’s motto.”

“I dunno,” Harry’s voice went soft again and Nick smiled at the pattern, “think I might be devoted to one man now.” 

Nick was happy for his friend. He didn’t quite believe that this thing with Nick Jonas would last, since it was Harry, but if Harry was happy, he’d be happy too. He shook his head at how soppy he was being. “Go get your man,” he told Harry.

“Same to you, man. And keep me updated on the new guy.”

  


***

  


Elgar paced back and forth between the sofa and the garden, confusing the dogs who dutifully followed him from spot to spot. He had mostly given up the cigarette habit, but there were still times when stress built up and he smoked like a chimney. Nick had been weird and non-responsive since the show the other night and even though they had both been doing a valiant job of ignoring that fact, Elgar needed to know what was going on. If Nick was unhappy about something, he’d rather know right away so they could deal with it instead of letting it fester. There had been entirely too much of that lately.

He was late, again. The third night in a row that his bedtime had come and gone with no more than a cursory “I’ll be home late. xx” text, even though they had, again, explicitly agreed to spend time together that night. 

Things kept coming up, so Elgar was pacing and smoking. 

When Nick finally appeared, bags under his eyes because he had been tossing and turning for nights, he seemed surprised to see Elgar. 

“Oh, you’re still up.”

Elgar would have been insulted, but the past few nights he had been tucked in bed, pretending to sleep when Nick gotten home and gone through his bedtime beautifying routine before bed. 

“Thought we should talk,” Elgar said. “Thought you’d be home for dinner. Thought we had plans.”

Nick sighed, pinching the skin between his eyes. “Fuck. I can’t help when work runs late, I texted you as soon as I found out. Can it wait until tomorrow? You know I have to be up at five.” 

“I’d rather not. We can have a drink though, if that’ll make the whole thing easier.”

“What whole thing?”

Elgar paused and swallowed dryly. “Dunno. Whatever you’re going to tell me.”

“Um…”

Elgar waited patiently. Mostly. “Cigarette?”

“No. It’s cold as fuck out there. Weren’t you freezing without a coat?”

Elgar shook his head. He hadn’t noticed. 

Nick squatted down to pet the dogs and throw the ball a few times.

“Just fucking tell me,” Elgar said, balling his hands into fists in his lap. “I know something’s up.”

Nick seemed to take a long moment before confessing, quickly and quietly, “I kissed Louis.”

“Okay.” A sharp pain of jealousy sliced through Elgar’s gut. Nick bit his lip, seemingly waiting for more of a reaction. Elgar was waiting for the rest of it.

“And?”

“And I’m sorry. I really am. I know I fucked up. I know this is different than… things in the past.” Nick ran a shaky hand through his hair as tears welled in his eyes. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Elgar’s heart ached, reeling from the pain of it all. When had they become a couple that didn’t share everything with each other? He waited for the final blow. Nick was pressing his face guiltily into Stinky’s back. 

“Just say it,” Elgar finally said. 

“I promise I won’t see him again.” Nick looked up, red eyes and blotchy cheeks. “I,” his voice hitched, “promise. I love you so fucking much and I… I’m so sorry. I was worried you’d be mad and I didn’t know how to tell you…”

Elgar bit down on his tongue, trying to keep his feelings in check. The Rules had always been very clear. Nick knew he wasn’t supposed to act on anything without Elgar there. And with Louis… Elgar had thought about it, of course he had, but he hadn’t done anything about it. “And how was it?”

“ _What_?”

“How was it? The kiss.” Elgar repeated firmly. His cock gave a feeble twitch and Elgar swallowed down whatever confusing mess this was.

In his head he saw Louis’ knees buckling as he melted into Nick’s embrace, high-pitched whines from the back of his throat as they tasted each other, Nick squeezing his arse and Louis grinding up against him—before, before Nick belatedly remembered he had someone waiting for him at home. Someone who he wasn’t supposed to betray.

“I swear it wasn’t anything more than a peck.”

“What?”

“I know that doesn’t make it better. Please don’t—. Baby, please. I’m sorry.”

“What?” Elgar repeated, struggling to catch up. 

“Sorry. I’m so, so—”

“No. Wait.” Elgar massaged his temples, the images in his head shifting with this new information. “You kissed him the same as you’ve kissed literally every single one of your friends ever?”

Nick’s face went white as his nervy, jumpy energy went still. “Well, yes, but—”

“But you wanted it to be more? You wanted to sleep with him?” Elgar swallowed thickly. “Did you even want me there?” 

Nick choked in a wet breath. “Elgar, I’m sorry.”

“This is some Tell-Tale Heart shit. If you hadn’t’ve freaked out… But I guess that’s the point though. This one’s got you freaked out.”

Nick crouched, his elbows on his thighs and the heels of his hands pressing into his eyes. “No. Fuck. No. I don’t want him instead of. I don’t want… I _love_ you.”

“But you do want to fuckhim,” Elgar added. He threw his hands up, “Unbelievable. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Nick pulled back, his head snapping up. “ _I’m_ unbelievable? I don’t know if you remember fucking me through the mattress the night of the party, rough and intense and, like—like you were fucking _someone else_.”

“Don’t even—”

“I’ve seen how you look at him. I kissed him, I’ll admit to that and I’m fucking sorry it happened, but I’m not the only one who’s cheated here.”

“That’s not—I didn’t act—We have Rules.” Rules that were supposed to keep this exact thing from happening. “You broke our fucking Rules. And maybe I’ve thought—You’re supposed to tell me before. It’s not supposed to be some shameful secret. _Our Rules._ The ones that keep us together.”

“EJ, I—” Nick reached out a hand. 

Elgar jerked away, trying to keep his voice level. “Don’t EJ me.” He pressed his hands together. “I can’t… be around you right now.” All he’d wanted these nights was for Nick to be close again, and now he couldn’t wait to get away.

“What?”

“I’m going to go for a drive.”

“No. It’s late. If… I can sleep in the spare, if you can’t…”

Elgar looked at the ceiling, blinking away the frustrated tears he didn’t want Nick to see. “I don’t want you to sleep anywhere but next to me.”

“Oh.” Nick’s body was still a taut wire, but his eyes softened. 

“I’m still pissed though. And I just need some time, like, away from your face at this exact minute. So I’m going for a drive to clear my head. I’ll pick up cigarettes or milk or something while I’m out.”

“You’re coming home though, right?”

Elgar took a deep breath, trying to keep it together.

“Elgar,” Nick pleaded. “Come on.”

“Of course I’m coming home,” Elgar said finally, reaching across to give Nick’s hand a quick squeeze, before turning his back on him and grabbing his keys. “I miss you like crazy. I want to get back to where we were. But I need to… process.” 

Once he was in his car, he stalled. Part of him wanted to storm back in there and let Nick off the hook, because some part of him _understood._ He did. But the Rules were there for a fucking reason. ‘Break the Rules. Break us.’ Ages ago, after too many glasses of wine they had repeated that to each other over and over and over again. And he didn’t know what to _do_ with all conflicting emotions.

The only thing he could do was drive.

Eventually he found himself driving past the skate park where he’d first met Louis. He pulled over and sat, staring at the skaters popping up over the lid of the bowl, listening to Black Flag. 

Louis. Elgar had been so drawn to him from the word go, and he wasn’t surprised that Nick had been too. Maybe Louis could be the landbridge connecting their current chasm.

He knew it was a bad idea, and rarely did he give into unhealthy impulses, but he texted Louis, _What’re you up to? Want to hang out?_

The three dots kept appearing and disappearing, before finally a whole song went by and there was no return message. He hit the call button before he could overthink it.

“’Lo?” Louis’ voice was thick and slow and masked by a background of grunts, shouts, and thumping music. 

“You okay?”

“What? Yeah. Why?”

“Where are you?”

“At home.”

“It sounds like you’re at a wrestling match or summat.”

“Ah. Nah. Just the lads. They’re playing FIFA and being tossers.”

Elgar heard Louis’ deep inhale and then his hacking cough. “Smoking?”

“Calvin waited on some posh fucking American yesterday and he left a huge tip. Bell-end spent it all on weed.”

“Oi. Fuck off then,” someone—Calvin, if Elgar was guessing—shouted. 

Elgar laughed and some of the stress he had been carrying around fell away. “Don’t want to interrupt your night, so I’ll go. Just wanted to say hi, I guess.”

“Hey, wait.” There were some muffled shouts and then the background noise fell away. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Elgar stupidly repeated. 

“Are you okay?” Louis asked. 

Elgar looked up, blinking away the sudden influx of tears for the second time that night. “Yeah. Of course. Just… thinking about you, I guess.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry, I know it’s stupid. Honestly, go back to the lads. I’m—” 

He didn’t know what he was, but he knew he didn’t need to bore Louis it. Louis should be getting high and fucking off with his friends, Lord knew that’s what Elgar was doing when he was Louis’ age.

“No. It’s fine. Not doing anything great. Should stop smoking anyway, when I smoke too much I get paranoid and that’s not a good look on anyone.”

Elgar let out a small wet laugh. “’M the same. It’s why I quit smoking weed actually. I hated the paranoia.”

“Not just cuz you grew up and got a real job and…”

“Grew up, huh?” Elgar scoffed. “Still feel like such a kid. Like… everyone else knows what they’re doing and I’m just faking it.”

Louis hummed from somewhere else in London. “Sure you’re okay?”

Elgar watched as the last of the skaters left the park and the bright overhead lights went off, blanketing the area in a quiet darkness. He turned off the volume dial and silenced the music. “Yeah. It’s just been a weird night.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Nick, he, uh…”

Louis cleared his throat. “Yeah?”

“Think he has a bit of a crush on you.” Elgar squeezed his lips tight and banged his head against the headrest. “He told me about the kiss.”

“I didn’t… fuck. Sorry. I…” Louis rushed, his voice was high, and a wave a guilt washed over Elgar. He hadn’t planned on any of this. 

“Wait. Sorry. No. It’s not your fault. Like, you’re just you, yeah?” Elgar shook his head. “Not like, I mean, you’re _you_ , you know? Not, that you’re just you.”

“What?”

“’M not mad at you. It’s not your fault. Not even his really, you’re so… don’t really know how everyone functions around you.”

“What the fuck,” Louis breathed out quietly. 

Elgar didn’t trust himself to speak. They breathed together for a few tense moments. He knew he had crossed a line, one that he could probably never fix, but it didn’t stop some small part of him from hoping that maybe the fates were smiling on him and this wouldn’t all be one-sided. Two-sided, if he counted Nick. 

“My dad,” Louis finally said, his voice steel. “He cheated on my mum, when she was pregnant with me. They weren’t even properly engaged, um, but he had, I guess, said it’d happen some day. But then she found out about his sidepiece. Or, who knows, maybe _she_ was the sidepiece.”

“Louis—”

“Then my ex-stepdad... My mum’s the best person I know. He’s a bloody wanker. And I don’t know what—”

“Louis—”

“I don’t know what you two are playing at here. But I’m not interested. In you or Nick or any of these sick games. So, just stop.”

“Louis—”

“Tell Nick too.”

The line went dead. 

Elgar called back and wasn’t surprised when it rang until he got Louis’ voicemail. He called once more, just to be sure, though he was bordering on stalker territory. Then, since every other line had been crossed and he had nothing to lose, he rang again. It went straight to voicemail. 

Elgar tossed his phone to the passenger seat. That was that. He turned his music up, loud. Loud enough to hurt his ears and turn people’s heads and drown out his thoughts. 

He put the car in drive and headed home.

  


***

  


It was loud and crowded at 34 Mayfair like always, and Nick put in an order of champagne the moment they had settled into a booth. 

“Oh, it’s going to one of those brunches, is it?” Elgar teased. 

Nick gave a tight smile that he knew Elgar could see right through. They were going to get through this. A boatload of alcohol might be needed, but they’d get through it. “Easier to apologise with some champs.” His fingers tapped against the table. “Plus, I think we both need to do some talking about what we want.”

Elgar tilted his head slightly. Once Nick met his eyes, he nodded and returned a smile. “Alright, after the bottle is popped, we can get serious.”

They chatted about inconsequential stuff once the waiter had taken their orders: the weather, how they’d slept, an upcoming show at the South London Art Gallery that Nick was excited about.

And after they each had their flute of champagne in their hands, Nick knew he had procrastinated enough. “I need to apologise. I know I broke The Rules and your trust and that’s a big deal. I’ve thought a lot about it, and I know I was being selfish and—”

“Nick.” Elgar put his hand on top of Nick’s on the table. “We’ve both—”

“We have. In the past. That’s why we came up with The Rules, to keep the communication—” Nick waved his hand about. The past was the past. It was better after they had talked, that they both knew the expectations. “But since we came up with The Rules neither of us had broken them. Until I did. So, I want you to know that I’m aware of that and it won’t happen again.” 

He was perhaps laying it on a little thick, but he was willing to bet his next paycheck that Elgar had also broken the first rule—that if he was interested in someone else to _tell_ Nick—but Elgar was going to milk the moral high ground for as long as he could since Nick had actually _acted_ on his attraction. Nick tangled their fingers together. “So I’m very sorry and I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Nick knew by Elgar’s soft eyes that he was already forgiven. Elgar gulped down his glass of champagne and then called the waiter over to order a pint. 

“‘S too dry. You finish the rest of the bottle.”

Nick topped his drink off while he waited out Elgar’s response. 

“Of course you’re forgiven.” He sighed and squeezed Nick’s hand. “And you weren’t the only one. I also didn’t say anything to you. About how much I fancy him. So even though I didn’t _kiss_ him, we were both in the wrong.”

“I knew it,” Nick gloated.

“Of course you did. Can’t keep anything from you. Can read me like a bloody book.”

“It’s one of the many things I love about you.”

Nick gently kicked Elgar’s ankle. He loved that look on Elgar’s face; exasperated and fond and in love. He thought about bringing up the wedding, if they should start to make some solid plans, but didn’t want to upset what was turning out to be a really nice day. Instead, as they waited for their food, he started a debate about whether or not their Uber driver was just exceedingly polite or flirting with them. 

“So,” Nick hedged, “if we’re both interested is this… something we want to do? Ask him to join us for some fun?”

Elgar was slowly chewing his own salad, eyes fixed on something behind Nick. 

Nick turned around, but didn’t see anything of interest, prompting him to ask, “What?”

Elgar winced, ducking his head to press his knuckles against the bridge of his nose. “There is a possibility that I fucked it up.”

Nick leaned forward, practically tipping the chair in his haste. “What’d you do?”

“I called Louis.”

Nick must’ve misheard. There’s no way Elgar _called_ him. “You what?”

“I know. And I think I freaked him out. He hung up on me.”

“Great.” Nick wiped his mouth with his napkin, trying to bite down on his anger. He refused to call his fiance an arsehole to his face. For a moment they had been so close to being on the same page. “What did you say to him?”

Elgar knocked the bottom of his fork against the table. “I was still reeling from what you told me and I was…” He couldn’t quite meet Nick’s eyes. “I was processing. And I think I…” He winced. “I told him that you had a crush on him.”

Nick dropped his fork onto his plate. “You think.”

“I did.”

“And then he hung up on you.” Nick let out a low whistle, secretly pleased that Louis had put Elgar in his place, even if it was at his own expense. “Honestly, my ego is not going to survive this kid.”

“No.” Elgar snorted. “It wasn’t personal. He was hung up on the cheating part.”

Nick took a moment to think, reminding himself that they’d both fucked up here. He leaned forwards to run a finger along the sinewy muscle of Elgar’s forearm, Nick was glad they were in this together. There was no one else he’d want to make all these mistakes with, after all. 

Elgar turned his hand to link his fingers with Nick’s. 

“So,” Nick shoved a forkful of salad into his mouth and thought about how to move forward. After he swallowed he said, “You didn't answer my question. Let’s say Louis is willing to forgive us. Are you interested in asking him if he wants to…” 

Nick’s knee bounced as he waited for Elgar to answer. He exhaled when Elgar finally nodded.

Of course there was the possibility that Louis wasn’t going to talk to them ever again, let alone be interested in a threesome or two. They had been turned down plenty of times before. But Nick’s heart ached at the thought of never seeing Louis again. 

“But no more secrets.” Elgar was wide-eyed and serious. “From either of us. And don’t ever fucking do what you did again.”

Nick nodded. He wouldn’t. “I won’t. No more secrets, promise.” 

“Me too.”

Elgar’s socked foot snaked its way up Nick’s leg. Nick swallowed, glancing around them with a coy smile. “Stop that. We’re in public, still.” He couldn’t contain the giggle when Elgar’s toes dug into Nick’s ticklish inner thigh.

“Can’t help myself, you’re just so fit.”

“You’re terrible.” He took a slow sip of champagne. “I do really love you, you know?”

“Shh,” Elgar said. “Let’s just leave it here, okay? We both messed up, we both apologised, let’s just enjoy our morning together.”

Nick nodded, swallowing around a sudden catch in his throat. He’d gotten truly lucky with Elgar. He straightened up and looked around when Elgar’s toes snuck a few inches higher. 

Nick wet his lips, and watched as Elgar did the same.

“You think he’d bottom for us?” Elgar murmured and Nick had the sudden urge to lick up his throat and nip at Elgar’s lower lip. “Have you pictured him laid out in our bed?”

Nick was getting hard at a speed he didn’t think he was capable of any more at his age. 

He pushed his plate away. “Not hungry.” He winked at Elgar. “Ready to go?”

Elgar dropped his fork, downed the rest of his pint, and raised his arm at the nearest waiter. 

  


***

  


Laying in bed that afternoon, Elgar had barely caught his breath before Nick curled up to him, gently playing with his nipples, and asked, “You think it’s time?” 

“Yeah,” he said, catching Nick’s wrist to kiss his knuckles. “Let’s do it.”

“Should we call or text?” Nick asked. 

“Text first.” Obviously.

“Okay.” Nick looked down at his phone and tapped it on his thigh as he thought. “Hope I didn’t freak you out with the kiss. Interested in dinner?” He cringed and shook his head.

Elgar laughed. That was awful.

“I think we should give him a heads up that we want to talk about it too. Feels like bad form to spring it on him mid-bite,” Nick said.

“There’s something we’d like to talk to you about?” Elgar suggested. Nick’s exaggerated lip snarl made Elgar laugh. “That’s a no, then?”

“Sounds so… I dunno.”

“Okay, so what about…”

They stared blankly at each other for a few moments, as neither one had anything to offer. 

“Oh my god!” Nick finally exclaimed, burying his face against Elgar’s shoulder. “Why is this so hard? How have we done this in the past?”

Elgar thought back to the first time they had asked Harry and the amount of wine they had all drank that night. “Pretty sure with everyone else it came about organically.”

Nick sighed dramatically. “Why’s this so hard? How do other people do this?”

Elgar bit his lip. He had his suspicions about why this might be different, why Louis had gotten so deeply under their skins so fast.

“Don’t think it matters how other people do it,” he said finally. “I think it matters how Louis would want to be asked.” 

“Right. Yes. Okay. If I was Louis, I’d want…” Nick tapped his fingers on Elgar’s chest.

Elgar kissed the crown of his head. “Are you going to be upset if he says no?”

Nick propped himself up on an elbow, so he was looking down at Elgar. He had a little frown on his face. “Are you?”

Elgar took a deep breath, forcing himself to be honest. “Yeah,” he said, watching Nick’s face carefully for a reaction. “I really want this. I want him to want us.”

Nick laid back down beside him. “Me too.”

Elgar put his phone down and turned to look at Nick. “I think he’d want us to be honest with him.”

Nick nodded, then gave a small grin. “I think we need to woo him. Like, proper.”

“We’ve gotta make sure he knows we’re a team though, that it’s not ‘cheating.’”

“Come on, EJ, you’re the writer. Give it a go.”

“How about, ‘We fool around with mates sometimes, it's not a big deal to us and it's not cheating, but we're very sorry we went about it all wrong and made you uncomfortable. Come round for dinner this weekend so we can apologise properly?’”

“Yes,” Nick sighed. “Perfect.”

Elgar hit send and immediately regretted it. “Shit. I’m going to add ‘Just mates, or more than, that’s completely up to you. No pressure.’”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nick nodded. “Oh and add…” He stole Elgar’s phone and typed quickly before handing it back over. _We think you’re fucking brilliant either way._

Elgar gave him a smacking kiss then hit send. 

With that sent, the weight didn’t leave Elgar’s chest like he thought it would. “Guess it’s up to him now, huh?”

Nick kissed Elgar’s cheek. “Yep. We’ve done all we can do.”

They laid quietly until Nick turned onto his stomach and Elgar half laid on top of him, tangling their feet together. 

“I don’t want to move,” Nick whined.

“If he says yes, what’ll we make for him?”

“EJ,” Nick groaned. “You’ll have plenty of time to worry about that if he says yes.”

  
  


“He’s probably just busy,” Nick said a few days later, squatting back against the wall of the house and clearly hating every second of it. He wasn’t the most glass-half-full person, but more so than Elgar. Or maybe he was just better at hiding his disappointment. 

“Yeah,” Elgar continued to countdown the last twenty seconds. His thighs burned. “… One.” They both stood and shook out their legs. 

“I hate this,” Nick complained, slumping dramatically against the wall. “You do realise we could be eating crisps and enjoying face masks on the sofa instead, yeah?”

Elgar passed Nick his bottle of water, smiling fondly. “I do too.” He picked up his towel and patted the sweat from his face. “One more set, though.”

Nick groaned but got back into position.

“I wonder what’s got him so busy he can’t respond with a simple yes or no.” He checked his watch. “Thirty seconds more.”

Nick swatted him with his own towel. “It’s not that simple.”

“I know,” Elgar said petulantly. 

Nick hopped in the shower once they’d finished working out, and Elgar sat on the edge of their bed, staring down at his phone. He pulled up Instagram and found Louis’ account. His profile held a collection of scowling selfies and shoe shots that gave no indication of what he’d been up to, nor what he was thinking. 

Elgar groaned and threw himself back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. As the water turned off in the bathroom, he lifted the phone over his head to take a scowling selfie of his own, throwing up two fingers in a ‘V’ like Louis often did. 

While he was debating deleting it or posting it, he got an Instagram notification.

His stomach swooped. Louis had liked one of his pictures. 

With a groan, he threw his head back and laughed when he saw it was a picture from ages ago, back when they had just moved in and he was painting their spare bedroom.

He deleted his selfie from his phone anyway. Then he navigated back over to Louis’ account and scrolled through the pictures he had already looked at once or twice. 

The running water from the shower stopped, and soon Nick came back into their room with a towel wrapped around his waist. He was still damp, his hair was curly and unruly, and Elgar ogled the long length of his body. Dropping the towel, Nick fell into bed beside Elgar. 

“Louis’ Instagram again?” Nick asked. 

Elgar hummed an affirmative. 

“Stalking it isn’t going to make him decide faster,.”

“I know. I’m just being impatient. It stresses me out, not like… knowing.”

Nick took the phone from Elgar’s hand and tossed it on the floor. “You know what’s a really good stress reliever?” he asked with a rakish wiggle of his eyebrow.

“What’s that?”

“Sex.”

Elgar rolled over, onto Nick. That sounded like an excellent way to pass some time.


	3. Chapter 3

Louis wasn’t sure why he had agreed to have tea with them, other than, he supposed, he was curious about what the fuck was going on. Clearly Elgar knew about the kiss—Louis brushed his hand across his lips at the memory—and he didn’t sound too upset about it.

 _More than. More than._ That phrase kept running through his head. He didn’t know what the fuck that even meant. He had an idea, of course. Nick _fucking_ Grimshaw, who he’d had a crush on even back when he was hosting _Sound_ , could have anyone he wanted; and between he and Elgar they probably had a rotating stable of boys they slept with.

He was bloody terrified of going over there and making a fool of himself, but what other option did he have? Sitting around the rest of his life and wondering ‘what if…’ would be his own personal hell. 

It was going to be awful and he was half sure this was some sort of prank, but he steeled himself anyway, and started to get ready.

He knew better this time around, and he dug through his closet for his cleanest pair of trainers. After giving Zayn a vague excuse for why he wouldn’t be around that night, he grabbed his skateboard and made a quick exit. 

The tube ride to the other side of London didn’t go by any faster than it had the last time, but he wasn’t shaking so he counted that as a win. After he propped his skateboard next to the front door, he wasted no time in knocking. Joking or not, he wasn’t about to be called out for his nerves again. 

Nick answered the door as Louis ran a hand through his fringe, debating internally whether he should’ve gone for a quiff. The dogs ran to the door too, trying to make their way around Nick to get to Louis. After he shuffled them back and away from the door, Louis wasn’t prepared for Nick to open his arms for a hug. He froze. 

“Promise I won’t bite,” Nick said with an awkward laugh. He put his arms halfway down and sort of… hovered. “Or, you know, kiss you.”

“At least not until you buy me dinner first,” Louis said quietly. Nick thinking about—talking about—kissing him again was too much with them standing there looking at each other. Louis took a small step forward, letting himself be embraced. 

“Sorry about, before,” Nick said, into Louis’ temple. His arms were still around Louis. He gave a squeeze. 

Louis finally hugged back, taking a deep breath of his aftershave and wondering what the fuck he was doing. Nick hugged like his friend Niall, holding on far longer than anyone else Louis knew—and like hugging Niall, Louis couldn’t bring himself to pull away first. 

“EJ’s making a roast chicken,” Nick said as stepped away to close the door behind Louis. “Hope that’s okay. Oh, wait, you’re not vegetarian are you?”

Louis rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out in mock disgust. “Nah, not vegetarian.” Now that he had stepped away from Nick, he could tell it smelled delicious. “Roast chicken is great. Smells great, I mean. Better than pot noodles, at least.” 

He toed out of his shoes, gave the dogs some attention, then followed Nick into the kitchen. Before he faced them both he fisted and flexed his hands, expelling another bit of nervous energy. 

Elgar was bent over at the hob, checking something inside, and his arse was right there, in tight, dark denim. He had never seen Elgar in anything other than sportswear and he quickly averted his eyes when he realised his gaze was lingering. He glanced at Nick who clearly had caught him and was leaning against the dishwasher with a poorly concealed smirk. 

“Hey, Louis!” Elgar greeted him with a warm smile and a squeeze of the shoulder. “I’m so glad you came.”

Louis flushed, forcing himself not to look away. “Yeah, uh, thanks for inviting me. Smells good.”

“What can I get you to drink? Nick’s already started in on the Riesling, it’s uh—” he picked up the bottle, “—from Alsace and—” he squinted, “—bio-dynamic, from 2000, and expresses notes of apple, citrus and honey?” He put it back down, giving Nick an odd look over Louis’s shoulder. “Or we could pop some crémant, or I think we’ve got a Cote Du Rhône somewhere, if you’d rather have red.”

Louis hadn’t the faintest what he just said.

“Uh…” Louis looked back and forth between the two of them. Nick was still trying to hide a smile with his wine glass. “Whatever’s open, I guess.” 

It’s not like he’d know the difference anyway.

Elgar furrowed his brow. “Fuck. I don’t know what… We have Carlsberg too. Or Heineken. Whatever you—” He looked over to Nick again.

Nick smirked. “Could make you a negroni.”

“You, fuck,” Louis laughed. “Honestly, I’m not—I don’t know what the fuck you were talking about with the wines, but if it’s good I’m willing to try. If it’s open, it’s fine. I don’t want to be any trouble.”

Elgar let out a long breath. “Shit. I’m stuffing this up. Here, I’ll pour you a glass and if you hate it, please say so and we’ll get you something else. No trouble at all.”

He poured Louis a glass, then opened a bottle of red for himself.

Before long they were sitting around the table, and Louis’ mouth was watering at the first home-cooked meal he’d eaten in ages. He was barely three bites in and as much as he was enjoying the food, he couldn’t wait any longer for them to bring it up. 

“So how does it work, with the whole, _mates_ thing?” Louis asked.

Elgar choked on his chicken as Nick went wide-eyed and laser focused on Elgar.

“Uhhhh,” Nick struggled.

“That is… up for discussion, right? Like, why you invited me over?” For a moment Louis wanted to hide, they were looking back and forth at each other and he had this stabbing fear that he had invented the text or misread the whole situation. “You want to sleep with me?” 

Both their eyes snapped to Louis.

“Yes,” Elgar said.

“If you’re up for it,” Nick added.

The heat of their eyes was almost worse. He wanted to shrink from the attention, but more so he needed to know what, exactly, they were looking for.

“And you’ve done this before? With, uh, other mates?”

“Occasionally.” Nick looked to Elgar. “It’s normally a bit more… organic. We’re already good friends, know what they’re into, have some drinks and it just sort of happens.”

“Oh.” Louis finished his glass of wine in a long gulp. It was too bitter and burned his throat. “Mind if I get a beer?”

Elgar pushed his chair back. “I can—”

Louis stood quickly. “I got it.” 

He stood in front of the open refrigerator for longer than necessary since he had no fucking clue what he was doing. Finally he pulled out a beer and rolled the cold can between his wrists. 

When he got back to the table their heads were close and they were talking in hushed tones. 

“We don’t want you to think we do this a lot,” Elgar said as Louis approached.

“It’s been a handful of times,” Nick said.

“Well,” Elgar looked at his plate. “A handful of, uh, mates.”

“So you, uh, have sex with them, more than once? But you’re just friends?” 

Louis wanted to ask who these friends were; what kind of superpowers they had that they could walk away from an experience like that and still be friends, not be crushed that it wouldn’t happen again and again and again, and if there was a club he could join afterwards to wallow in the pain when they were done with him.

“If we all want,” Elgar said slowly. “If we’re… compatible.”

“What,” Louis swallowed dryly, _christ_ , he didn’t even know how to ask, “works? For you two?”

“We’re pretty flexible?” Nick looked to Elgar who nodded in agreement.

“Okay.” Louis wasn’t entirely sure what that meant.

Elgar sat back in his chair, cutlery down, food all but forgotten. “What are you into?” 

Louis pushed his cut up chicken around his plate. He shrugged. “Just, the normal stuff, I guess.” He could feel his cheeks heating up and ducked his head a little more into his chest.

“Cool. Us too,” Elgar said. 

“Reckon we’re pretty vanilla.” Nick hid his smile behind his almost-empty wine glass. “’Cept for the… mates… thing.”

“Is it like, a scheduled thing? You and your mates? Or do you just booty call when you’re in the mood?” Louis didn’t much like the idea of sharing: ironic, considering.

“No.” Nick furrowed his brow and ran a hand through his hair, fluffing it up. “No?”

“Neither?” Elgar said, looking just as unsure as Nick. “You wouldn’t be,” he blanched, “a booty call.”

“And there’s not a schedule. Not rotating. I don’t think—” He looked at Elgar, who gave him a small nod. “It’s not like we have a stable.” 

“Okay.” That made him feel better.

“Okay, okay? You’re in?” Nick looked ready to pounce.

“No. I mean, not, _no_ , no. This is still…” Madness. The beer can crinkled in his hands. “I know what I want, I’m just not sure it’s a good idea, you know?”

“There’s obviously no pressure,” Elgar said. 

“We’re happy with being mates, well, _regular_ mates, with you, if that’s what you want. You’re funny and smart and the sex stuff would be, like, a bonus, not required.”

Louis’ cheeks heated. He’d always been the class clown, but the way Nick said it gave him a surge of pride. “I’ll think about it,” he said with a small smile. “But… I’m not saying no.”

Louis swiped his fringe again. He could feel them looking at him as he took another bite of chicken. 

After dinner, they insisted on doing the dishes and let Louis off the hook, so he could play with the dogs. After he had worn out the dogs and they lay panting in their beds, Louis went back for another beer. 

Louis walked back into the kitchen to find them snogging against the counter. Elgar had Nick pressed against him, one hand clutching his arse. His other hand was tangled in Nick’s hair. Louis stopped in his tracks, feeling like he was intruding, but couldn’t bring himself to turn around. They were kissing. Not in a club. Not wasted. Just slowly, tenderly, kissing in their kitchen. 

Pig came bounding up to Louis, and with a bark, interrupted their moment. The two of them had a silent conversation, and then Nick rested his head against Elgar’s, as Elgar put his hand out for Louis. Louis returned his tentative smile, even though his heart was beating double time. 

Louis’ hand was small in Elgar’s, and then he was tucked between the two of them. Nick placed a warm hand on Louis’ very lower back, right at the swell of his arse. Elgar brushed the hair across his forehead, the way Louis had been doing all night, and trailed his fingers down behind Louis’ ear. His hand rested on the back of Louis’ neck, and his eyes flicked down to Louis’ mouth. Louis was looking back and forth between Nick’s eyes—inviting and questioning—and his wet, wine-stained lips. 

Louis moved willingly as Elgar drew him closer, going up on his toes at the last moment as he felt Elgar’s breath ghost against his lips. Nick let out a moan when they finally connected. Elgar’s lips were so soft, and as they parted, Louis moaned too, and then he was tasting Elgar as they slid together. 

Nick’s grip on him tightened as the kiss deepened and Louis simultaneously wanted to sink back into him and surge up toward Elgar for more. Louis was so hard, it was all he could do not to rock into Elgar’s thigh.

Nick nuzzled into the junction of Louis’ shoulder and neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses. He made his way higher, and finally sighed, “My turn.” They all turned slightly, Elgar relinquished Louis, and pressed the hard line of his dick against Louis’ hip, as Nick dipped down and caught Louis’ lips with his own. Nick was insistent from the start, gripping the side of Louis’ face, taking his breath away. 

Louis could’ve stayed there between their arms all night, but once all three of them were panting and grinding their hips, Elgar pulled away slowly. “Want to stay for awhile?” he asked, voice rough. “We could—bedroom, if you wanted. Or,” his head gave a little shake, “if you’re still not sure, we could watch a movie, or something.”

Both Elgar and Nick’s eyes were dark with desire, but now that he could breathe again Louis was reminded of all the reasons why this was a bad idea. A movie would be fine, but on a couch, squeezed between them, he knew he’d lose all self-control. They’d be kissing again in no time, and fuck were they amazing kissers, and then they’d want to go a little further and… Louis wasn’t ready to tell them. 

“I should…” A thrill ran down his spine as Nick’s knuckles dug into his ribs. “Um, I need to think. I need to go.” 

He stepped out of their embrace and pressed the heel of his palm into his aching cock. He took a few steps across the kitchen, then couldn’t bear it any longer and turned. “I promise, I’ll text. I just need…” They both looked disappointed, and it made something ugly churn in his gut. “I just need to process… this.”

He walked out, picking up his shoes on the way out the door, and without pausing grabbed his board. He stopped walking after a block or two, and with shaking hands, he put his shoes on and then kept moving.

  


***

  


Louis tried not to think about it. But it was hard, especially when he was hard. Which is what happened every morning laying in bed listening to the radio and at night laying in bed googling their names. He had never wanked so much in his entire life.

The newest wanking material was a video on Elgar’s Instagram. He was in tiny shorts, under a spray of water, doing a sort of running dance. Watching it made Louis feel like he was going to combust. Elgar was well fit and fucking buff and Louis wanted to get his mouth on his thigh tattoo. 

He imagined himself under the spray with him, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of the shorts and pulling. He ran a hand down his chest, a warm hand slicing through the cold water. His nipples pebbled as the water continued to fall: fingers pinching and pulling and rolling. The enthusiasm of skin against skin warmed him from the inside out. Hands grappled for purchase as thumbs dug into firm muscle. He reached down, skirting his knuckles along the thatch of hair at the base of his dick. A shiver wracked through him. He teased his balls, running a soft finger around the loose skin. As he took a firm grip of his hard cock, he moaned and arched his back, consumed with lust. His hips bucked into the fist, again and again, as they worked in tandem. There were more throaty moans, more bursts of pleasure as fingers explored, the taste of salty sweat. Faster and faster he worked. The sensations built on top of each other, the buzzing multiplied, and with a final satisfying grunt he was folding in on himself as the pressure in his balls released and he was coming all over himself. 

Louis dragged his hand through the mess, rubbing it into his skin. With a huff he closed Instagram and pulled the pillow from behind his head. He screamed into it, until he was out of breath and his lungs were screaming too. 

Then he picked his phone back up and started a group chat, adding both Nick and Elgar. _‘Yes. I’m in.’_

And that’s how he found himself back in their bedroom a few days later.

Elgar and Nick were pottering around their room, straightening things that were already neat, shoving miscellaneous clothing into drawers, pulling the duvet tight. Even though Louis was new to doing anything in a bed, he was 99.9% sure they’d be messing that up anyway. If he didn’t know that the two of them had done this more times than they could count, he’d think they were just as nervous as he was. 

He stood by the foot of the bed, rocking back on his heels and trying not to catalog every detail of their bedroom.

Nick caught him off guard when he finally surged into Louis’ space and pulled him into a deep kiss. Nick’s huge hands were cradling each side of his face. Louis fisted Nick’s t-shirt at both hips, twisting the soft, worn fabric as a way to ground himself as Elgar’s warm body crowded behind him. 

Louis and Nick separated as Elgar mouthed his way up Louis’ neck. Elgar slid one arm inside Louis’ red adidas sweatshirt and locked him against Elgar’s chest, as he and Nick started kissing over Louis’ shoulder. Nick moved one hand to the side of Elgar’s face, and the other he snaked around to grip Louis’ arse. Louis tilted his head against Elgar’s shoulder and watched, close up, as they tongued into each other’s mouths.

As Louis let out a breathy moan, Elgar gave Nick a quick peck, then turned his attention to Louis. “You okay?” he asked. 

Louis nodded; he didn’t trust his voice. 

“K. Can I…” He inched closer to Louis. 

In an approximation of a nod, Louis moved his head and then Elgar’s lips were on his. As they were kissing, Nick slid Louis’ beanie off his head, giving his hair a ruffle once it was free. Then he spanned his hands across Louis’ waist, and started to lift his sweatshirt. 

“This okay?” Nick asked. 

Louis nodded again and only pulled away from Elgar when Nick reached his armpits and he had to lift his arms. Nick dropped the sweatshirt at their feet and caressed from his fingertips down to the sensitive bit of skin at his inner bicep. Elgar was hastily removing his shirt and Nick dipped down for another kiss.

“Bed?” Louis asked. He was overwhelmed and his knees were literally weak. The bed was a good idea. 

“Yeah,” Nick agreed easily. He squeezed Louis’ arse. Nick folded back the duvet then crawled over to the far side. He patted the middle of the bed and wiggled his eyebrows. 

“Does that ‘come hither’ look work with all the boys?” Louis asked. 

Nick cocked one eyebrow and growled. Elgar shook his head and laughed at him. “Is it working for you?” Nick asked. Propped up on an elbow, he held out a hand for Louis. 

“I have no idea why, but somehow it is,” Louis said. He laid down on his back next to Nick. 

“No, Louis, can’t give in,” Elgar whined climbing in after him. “Nick’s gonna get a big head.”

“I’ll show you a big head,” Louis muttered his breath. 

“Will ya now?” Nick asked. Nick’s soft fingers circled below Louis’ belly button. His pinky slid under his waistband. Louis struggled to stay still and not rip his trousers off. 

Elgar massaged Louis’ thigh. “Bet you have a really pretty cock.”

 _A pretty cock_. He felt his whole body flush. 

No hookups had ever said anything like that to him before. It had been mostly grunts and drunken slurs. Any pretense that he was going to be able to keep up witty banter during sex was totally thrown out the window if they were going to say things like that. _A pretty cock._

He let out a throaty whine. 

“Mind if I take them off, love?” Nick asked, fingering the flies.

“Yes.” _Please._ Nick’s hand stilled. “Fuck. No. I don’t mind. Off. _Off_.” He lifted his hips so Nick could pull the jeans down. He only made it halfway down Louis’ thighs then left them there as Louis arched up and distracted Nick with another kiss.

The bed jostled as Elgar wiggled out of his trousers as well, then pulled Louis’ jeans all the way off. 

“Still okay?” Elgar asked.

“Yeah, of course.” Louis shuddered as hands tickled his thighs, teasing closer to his dick that twitched in response.

Elgar stripped out of his briefs, and then his hard cock was tapping at the back of Louis’ thighs. Louis balled his hands into fists and closed his eyes. This was the single best thing that had ever happened to him. 

“Sure you’re alright?” Nick asked. Elgar stilled again. “You’ve done this before, yeah?” Nick continued. 

“I’m not a bloody virgin,” Louis snapped, harsher than he meant. “I’m just… you’re both so fucking fit. It’s a lot, yeah?” They both laughed quietly. It wasn’t a lie. He had gotten off with people before.

“I want to suck you,” Nick said.

“Please,” Louis mewled. 

Nick shifted himself so he was between Louis’ legs. Louis bucked his hips when Nick leaned forward and mouthed at his bulge. When Nick pulled away from the heather grey of his pants, a heavy dark spot was left and Louis knew he’d never be able to wear them again without remembering the desire in Nick’s eyes. 

Nick licked his lips, and maintaining eye contact with Louis, he took the top of Louis’ pants between his teeth and started to pull them off. Elgar kissed Louis’ temple as they both watched Nick’s performance. “Fucking show off,” Elgar muttered, his voice full of affection. Louis snorted out a laugh.

He had not yet managed to free them totally from Louis’ arse and let go in order to rise on all fours and give Elgar a kiss. “Didn’t hear you complaining when I was practicing.” 

Louis squirmed under them as they kissed a bit more, and was able to hook a thumb in his pants and get them further down. Nick slid them the rest of the way down his legs, then settled back in between them. 

Nick blew him enthusiastically; it was wet and tight and Louis found himself on the edge of coming much sooner than he would’ve liked.

“Stop. Stop. ’M gonna come and you don’t even have your kit off yet.”

Elgar kissed and mouthed around Louis’ neck. “Louis…”

“Yes…?”

“Do you have a preference on position tonight? Or, like,” he looked up at Nick who was getting out of bed, “who does what?”

“Um…” Louis thought about how the night had been so far, how comfortable he was, and how he had no idea if this would end up being a one-time thing. “Can I… can one of you fuck me?” The other two exchanged a look Louis couldn’t quite decipher.

“Yes. Who…” Nick was fiddling with the hem of his shirt, and there was another look that he wasn’t a part of. 

It didn’t matter to Louis. He shrugged. Mostly he wanted to get past the talking bit and into the fucking bit. 

There was another silent conversation then Elgar said, “He will. If you’re okay—”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Louis looked over at Nick pulling down his trousers and telepathically told him to hurry up. He tried to peek at what he was in for.

“Come here. Give us a kiss,” Elgar said, pulling Louis in for a kiss. Louis reached down to _touch_ Elgar. His fingers grazed against him and he lingered all he wanted, teasing around his balls and playing with his foreskin and making Elgar groan into his mouth.

When Nick, finally without his clothes, slid in next to Louis, Louis pulled away from Elgar and rolled over to kiss Nick too. 

Louis raked his fingers against Nick’s chest, reveling in the curl of his hair. Nick pulled away, and turned over to turn out the lights. 

“Oh.” Louis wondered what he had done wrong. “Is that… could we keep the lights on? Would… would that be weird?”

Louis watched the slow dip of Nick’s Adam’s apple. Nick flicked his eyes back and forth between Louis and Elgar.

“I think.” Elgar looked like he was prompting Nick, chin out and eyes soft. “I think that’d be fine.”

Nick gave one last long look at Louis, then nodded. He turned back and the room flooded with light. 

“Come here, then,” Nick said as he moved back to Louis. He grabbed the duvet and pulled it to his shoulder as he ducked back in for a kiss. 

Elgar’s hands were wandering all over Louis’ body. “Can I get you ready?” he asked. 

“Mmhmm,” Louis hummed. His hips kicked as Elgar wrapped his mouth around his cock. He gave it a few wet sucks, then sat up and pulled lube and a string of condoms out of a side drawer. 

Louis tried not to clench as Elgar breached him, focusing as much as he could at the feeling of Nick surrounding him. He knew he was writhing, but he couldn’t stop it. The only thing holding him together was Nick’s soft hands petting down his flank, pinching his nipples, tangling his fingers in his hair. 

“Think he’s ready, love.”

Elgar kissed Louis’ inner thigh.

“Okay, Louis, hands and knees,” Elgar said. All three of them moved. “Are you okay if I sit like this? In front of you?” His back was against the headboard.

Louis’ mouth watered. “Can I blow you?”

Elgar groaned. “Fuck. Yes, of course.”

Louis gave a tentative lick as Nick gently fingered his rim. “You still okay with this?” Nick asked breathily.

“Yeah. ’M ready, Nick.” He took Elgar into his mouth then let him slide back out. “Wait. Can you, uh, not, like, fuck into my mouth?” Louis hoped that was okay. “I kinda hate that.” He always felt like a blowup doll when guys used him like that in clubs. And getting it from both ends… it was already going to be a lot.

Elgar combed his fingers through his fringe and pushed it off to the side.

“Course. Not a problem. You control it, however you like.”

Louis surged up to kiss him, gasping into his mouth when Nick pressed forward. 

Louis dropped to his elbows. It burned. There was pressure. And all he could think was _I’m getting fucked. I’m having sex. Nick’s dick is_ in _me._ He took Elgar back in his mouth, trying desperately to focus on making it good for him instead of how overwhelmingly big Nick felt inside him.

“Okay?” Elgar asked.

“Need me to go slower?” Nick asked.

Louis’ mouth was full and he nodded yes quickly before shaking his head and finally just arched his back further—he hoped he looked sexy—and moaned.

Nick stilled. “That’s a ‘yes’…?” he tried to clarify.

Louis sucked to the tip of Elgar’s cock then pulled off. He inhaled deeply and both of them put a hand on his back, both gently rubbing. 

“Fine. I’m fine. Just… keep—I’m good.”

Nick ground in a little further and Louis cried out, falling forward again onto Elgar’s lap. He could feel tears welling in his eyes and he blinked them away furiously. He was overwhelmed by the cock in his arse and soft hands caressing him. 

But he wasn’t going to cry. 

Except maybe he was because then Elgar was brushing his cheeks with the back of his hand and with a ‘shh shh’ and waving hand he was stopping Nick. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” Elgar repeated quietly. 

“I’m fine.” Louis said with a few more blinks.

“Of course you are,” Elgar said. 

“Really. It’s nothing. I’m—”

“Fine. We know,” Nick said, not unkindly. “Could probably all use a little breather.”

With an embarrassing sniffle Louis got back in position. “K, I’m ready.”

“Uhh…” Nick said.

“Stop.” Elgar massaged his shoulders and upper arms. “Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t you…” He maneuvered Louis so he was laying on his back, his head resting on Elgar’s thigh. Louis threw an arm over his face. Nick, kneeling between his legs, rubbed up and down his thighs.

“And if you want to…”

“I do. I want to keep going. I promise, I’m fine.”

“Love,” Nick said quietly, “obviously you’re totally fine and there is absolutely nothing wrong, at all. But also, you’re gonna need to look me in the eye and say it one more time.”

There were no more tears but the embarrassment still shone bright. “You’re not going to laugh?”

Nick chuckled. “Not going to laugh. We’ve all been there. And I’m feeling quite chuffed, actually, that I managed to—”

“Alright. Alright,” Elgar said, swatting him gently in the shoulder. 

“I’m just saying—”

Louis let out a wet laugh and started to stroke himself. “Nick,” He fluttered his eyelashes, “can we please forget this ever happened? I’d very much like to continue getting fucked now.”

“Whatever you say goes,” Nick said. He teased his cockhead at Louis’ rim and still seemed to be waiting for something else from Louis. He nodded for Nick to go ahead. Nick pushed back in and Louis scrambled to squeeze Elgar’s hand.

“We’ve got you,” Elgar whispered. Nick moved slowly again, keeping an eye on Louis’ face the whole time. And then Louis was able to give in to the pleasure. 

Supported by Elgar, they rocked together. Nick’s hips pushed forward again and again and Louis melted at each slow drag out. He was holding on where he could, shoulders and legs, grappling for something steady as Nick wrung him out. His orgasm built slowly and steadily and he panted for Elgar to take hold of him, to pull him through his pleasure. Elgar and Nick worked in tandem to bring Louis to the end and he cried out as his muscles tensed and he was spilling all over Elgar’s hand. 

“Oh, fuck,” Nick moaned. “I’m so close. Louis, can I—” He broke off in a series of aborted thrusts and quick breaths. “Can I come on your arse?”

“Uh, yeah? I guess?”

“You’re incredible. Fuck, Louis, I…”

He pulled out and manhandled Louis so he was on his stomach again. Out of the corner of his eye Louis saw the condom land on the side table and then Nick was grunting behind him, and splattering his come on Louis’ back. Elgar was hard in front of Louis’ face and without thinking, Louis took him back in his mouth, sucking and licking until Elgar was holding tight on his shoulder and warning that he was going to come. Nick surged up to kiss him through it and Louis kept the same pace, and then Elgar went taut and after moment he was coming into Louis’ mouth. 

They all slid down into a heap of limbs and flushed skin.

They laid there quietly breathing, until Nick finally asked, “You’re staying the night, right?”

“Uh. I guess? If you’ll have me.”

Elgar pulled him in for a tight hug. “Please? We’d really like that.”

“It’s better to fall asleep with a cuddle, huh?” Nick asked. 

Louis shrugged. He had no idea. “Yeah, I’ll stay for a cuddle.”

“That’s a lad,” Nick said, wrapping his arms around them too. 

After the clean up and a snack and another cuddle, Louis was sandwiched between them again, this time they were both snoring instead of panting. 

  


***

  


Louis was up and out of the house before Nick woke up. Which, considering how early Nick normally woke up, meant Louis had likely left in the middle of the fucking night. Nick scrambled for his phone, squinting at the bright screen as he texted a frantic message to make sure he was okay and got home safe. They would’ve called him a car if he wanted to leave. He got up to search the house, just in case, but he knew Louis had fled.

No matter how many times Nick checked his phone, Louis didn’t respond until well after lunch, when Nick and Elgar were at Waitrose. 

“Finally.” Nick sighed with relief. “Little twat. I was about to send out a search party.”

Elgar looked over his shoulder at the text and Nick kissed him on the temple. “He give an excuse?” Elgar asked. 

“Nah. Said he was fine. Got home safe.” 

Given Louis’ definition of ‘fine’ Nick wasn’t entirely sure Louis was okay with everything, but at least he wasn’t murdered roadside. A full English and a second round was on his diary, but he couldn’t blame Louis doing a runner after his first threesome.

“Hm.”

Elgar stared at the jars of tomato sauce. 

Nick waited for him to make a decision and when he didn’t, Nick asked, “Trying to decide between sausage and mushroom?” Elgar didn’t answer. “Elgar!”

“Soz. What?”

Nick motioned toward the selection. “Hard choice? Get the same one we always do.”

“Oh. No.” Elgar shook his head. “I was… Zoned out there for a minute.”

Elgar grabbed their standard off the shelf and put in the trolley. 

They made it halfway down the aisle when Elgar froze, turned, and walked back to the sauces. Nick shook his head. “Okay. I got the trolley,” he said sarcastically. “Don’t worry.”

Nick waited it out, choosing between the pastas on offer, until Elgar came back with another jar. Nick chose the fusilli. 

“I feel like going out tonight,” Nick said as they started down the next aisle. 

“What?” Elgar looked askance. “You’re eighteen again, on the pull and without a job that gets you up at arse o’clock in the morning?”

“I—” He didn’t know what he felt. Off-balance. Antsy. Vaguely sad for no reason. “I know. Just a passing fancy.”

“What if we have friends over instead? Tonight.”

Nick sighed. “Yeah, could do. _Lovesick_ ’s on telly.”

“Then it’s settled.”

He wasn’t totally settled, but it was a start.

  


***

  


“You have a fun night last night?” Harry asked. He and Elgar and the dogs were sprawled out around the living room.

“I’m afraid to even ask how you know about last night,” Elgar said.

Everyone else had left, but Harry, being forever Harry, looked like he was about to make himself at home on their couch for the night. His curls did look pretty great on their Roberto Cavalli floral throw pillow. 

“Oh.” Harry tilted his head and paused before continuing in his slow drawl. “Was I not supposed to know about last night?”

“I knew he was going to tell, obviously—it’s Nick—but it _just_ happened.”

“So, not so fun?”

“What? No. Why would you think that? What did Nick say?”

Harry sat up, crossed his legs, and plopped the pillow in his lap before leaning forward. “Genuinely… What the fuck is going on with you two?” 

“Nothing.” 

It was nothing. 

“He’s not going to leave you for this… twink. Is that what—”

“Stop.”

“You know he loves—”

“He’s not a twink.”

After a moment Harry replied, “Okay.” 

Elgar didn’t particularly care for the knowing look in Harry’s eye. He wasn’t the dumb pop star everyone made him out to be. And where was Nick; it couldn’t possibly take this long to walk Pixie to the door.

“Nick loves you.”

“And I love him,” Elgar was quick to clarify.

“There’s so much love in this house it’s making me sick.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Love sick is a great concept for a song…” He bopped his head a few times. “Take my medicine,” he murmured.

“Oh, speaking of,” Elgar said, “has the Chlamydia cleared up?”

Harry cut a serious side eye. “Seriously? Don’t you two have any secrets?”

All Elgar could do was shrug. Nick hadn’t told him, but there wasn’t a need to clarify that with Harry.

“Whoa, what’s happening in here?” Nick asked as he entered the room. He laid across the sofa and put his feet in Harry’s lap. Harry immediately put his hands on them and started rubbing.

“Elgar’s being a cunt. As always,” Harry said.

“I bet he is.” Nick winked at Elgar and Elgar shook his head and chuckled.

“I was just about to ask young Harold here about his tryst with Nick Jonas,” said Elgar.

“Not a tryst,” Harry protested. “At the moment, it sucks because he’s on tour and I was left behind.” Harry stuck out his lower lip in an exaggerated pout.

“Now you know how we feel every time you go on tour,” Nick said.

Harry shook his head. “I’m flattered, Grim. Not quite the same thing, is it?” 

Harry dug his thumbs into Nick’s feet, the sinewy muscle of his forearm flexed. Elgar’s days of being jealous about Harry were mostly gone, but he was never quite ready for how easily and intimately the two of them shared space, even after all these years.

“Gone and fallen for a pop star, how very cliche of you, Styles,” Elgar teased.

He counted himself lucky that Nick and Harry’s infatuation with each other had never quite transitioned into a love story.

“The heart wants what the heart wants,” Harry said. 

Elgar caught Nick’s eye and gave him a private smile. Harry gave Nick’s feet a soft pat then pushed Nick’s legs off of him and went back to the foetal position. “If you boys don’t mind, I need my beauty sleep.”

After taking care of the dogs, Elgar followed Nick up the stairs. He hadn’t been able to enter their bedroom without thinking about Louis since he had been over. After playing, they normally changed their sheets the next day, but they hadn’t this time. There was a spot that still smelled like Louis’ coconut shampoo, and Elgar hated that their housekeeper would be there in a few days to deal with the wash. It was a more troubling thought than Elgar was prepared to deal with.

  


***

  


After the experience with Nick and Elgar, Louis was dreading hitting the bars with his friends. He was trying, and failing, to come up with an excuse that would allow him to sit home and wallow. 

“Lou, come on,” Calvin said for at least the fourth time.

“I don’t feel like it tonight.”

Nazim put an opened beer in his hand. “You haven’t pulled in ages. Bet your dick’s gonna fall off from not being used.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “No need to be concerned about my dick.”

Zayn gave him a sympathetic smile. 

“Come on, one drink,” Calvin pushed. “If you’re really not feeling it then you can go home and I promise I won’t even make fun of you being a pussy.”

That was when Louis always gave in. “Fine. Wankers. One drink.” 

It was never one drink. 

Zayn tucked his hand in his armpit and moved his arm like a wing, their less-than-subtle signal that he was going to play wingman. 

“Oi Oi! Zaynie!” Calvin said. “Let’s get our boy laid.”

“I’ll do my best. I agree he needs a distraction,” Zayn laughed. 

“Oh my God! I hate all of you,” said Louis. 

He convinced them to go down to the local for his one drink. And from the moment they arrived, he knew it had been a bad decision. Calvin and Nazim were pointing out every bird in their eyeline, offering them up to Louis. 

A tall, gorgeous, dark-haired guy walked in and hovered by the door, clearly looking for someone. Louis caught his eye and gave a little smile just as Nazim asked, “What about her?” and drew Louis’ attention away from Hottie. 

“Not my type,” Louis deadpanned. 

“Pickiest bloke ever,” Calvin complained. 

Not that picky. He could do with a strong, dark, serious bloke or pale, lanky, flirty hipster.

Louis looked back to see Hottie walking towards them and hearing Nazim call out, “Oi! Oi! Luke!” Hottie, Luke, was headed their way, hand in the air waving.

Which was very inconvenient because he was even hotter up close, and had an infuriating smirk directed at Louis. 

There were fist bumps and loose hugs when he got to the table. “Louis, this is Luke, from our soc class,” Nazim said. 

“I can’t believe you’ve kept him squirreled away this long,” Luke said, giving Louis a private look that made it clear Louis hadn’t as been discreet about checking him out as he might have thought. 

Louis could feel his cheeks heat and had never been more thankful for the lack of light in the dim pub.

“Oh, he’s a quiet one,” Luke continued.

“Hey,” Louis finally croaked, after he realised the whole table was looking at him and he was acting weird. 

Calvin and Nazim’s other friends were sometimes a little brutish for Louis and he generally avoided meeting them for as long as he could. 

“Nice to finally meet you,” Zayn chimed in. “Heard your party last weekend was epic.”

Last weekend, when Louis had a cock up his arse. His whole body flushed with the memory he had worked to forget. It was a one time thing, and he had made such a fool of himself.

“It was, but there was a distinct lack of cute boys. Ended up with a fit bird though, so wasn’t a total wash.”

Louis choked on his drink. Luke was so shameless. He couldn’t quite put a finger on if he was making fun of Louis for the cross-room check out or if he was actually into guys. If he was, and Calvin and Nazim knew, and were okay with it? Louis wondered if they’d be less cool about it if he’d been their roomate. His chest clenched.

Someone kicked him under the table and he looked up to see Luke taking a long pull of his beer. 

Zayn knocked his thigh and raised his eyebrows in a question. Louis shook his head. No. Luke was hot, but he wasn’t interested. He had finally gotten an actual dicking, in a bed, with lads who made eye contact. He wasn’t up for a fumble in the loo.

Zayn shrugged.

Louis accidentally caught Luke’s eye a few times as he sipped his warming pint, and quickly looked away every time. He didn’t want to give Luke the wrong idea. Louis couldn’t even follow the thread of conversation because his head was such a jumble.

“I’m gonna… loo,” he proclaimed as he all but leapt from the table. He needed to splash some water on his face and get a hold of himself. He had his wrists under the cold tap when Luke walked in behind him.

“Hey.”

“Hey, yourself,” Louis parroted.

Luke took a step forward, lowering his voice. “Soz if I read the room wrong.”

Louis turned around to face him instead of looking at him through the dirty mirror. “I’m not…” 

Luke cocked his head. “Could’ve sworn you were checking me out, though.” He stepped closer, dropping his gaze to Louis’ mouth. “You’re really fit.”

Luke had Louis cornered against the sink, and Louis wanted to want him. Luke was fit. And interested. That used to be Louis’ only criteria.

But he smelled wrong.

And it didn’t feel right, whatever the reality was, it still felt wrong.

“Nah, mate.” Louis flushed as he felt Luke’s hips press against his own, and realised he felt nothing back. “Not interested.”

Luke gave him a calculated look. “Even though I come on strong, I can keep a secret.”

The door banged open, startling them apart. Nazim strode in, cackling even though nothing had actually happened.

“Good luck with that one,” Nazim said. “He doesn’t swing that way.”

Luke smirked. “If I recruit one more though, I get a 4K TV.”

Louis pushed his fringe out of his eyes, waiting for Nazim to turn his back to them before whispering, “Seriously, mate. Not interested.” 

“Okay.” Luke put his hands up in surrender. “Message received.”

He left as quickly as he came. Louis took a deep breath. Nazim finished up at the urinal then chuckled to himself as he washed his hands.

“What?” Louis asked, his stomach clenching up.

“Nothing, just… You won’t even hook up with, like, the hottest chicks. Let alone a _dude_. He had zero chance.”

It had been building up and the lid he normally kept sealed had sprung a leak. Before properly thinking it through, he blurted, “I don’t hook up with even the hottest chicks because I’m gay.”

Nazim looked delighted, until he turned around and his face twisted into confusion. “Wait. You’re serious?”

“Yep.”

“Oh, _fuck_.” 

Louis’ stomach plummeted at his reaction. 

“So, yeah.” Louis had no idea what to do next. Nazim was frozen in place, glancing between Louis and the door. Louis’ heart hammered in his chest, his face burning. This was it—the reaction he’d always feared. Next they’d stop taking their shirts off around him and ask him to move out and stop inviting him out with them and— 

“Did I just cock block you?”

“What?”

“Luke. Did I cock block you, just now? I can get him back. Stand guard outside while you—”

A startled chuckle burst from Louis’ chest. And then it transformed into a full-blown laugh, until he was doubled over, trying to catch his breath. 

“What did I miss? Are you both pitchers or something? Not gay compatible?”

“Holy shit, Naz.” Louis sucked in a deep breath. “I’ve never met someone with such a one-track mind.”

“Duh.” Nazim patted him on the back and squeezed the back of his neck like he’d always done. “Still need to get you laid.”

“I really don’t need your help. _Really_ don’t.”

“Oh.” The confused look was back, and then replaced by a shit-eating grin. “Wait, really?”

Louis flushed, kicking the toes of his trainers against the grotty floor. “Just because you parade around your conquests doesn’t mean the rest of us do.”

“But, wait. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Louis shrugged. “Dunno.”

“If you have a boyfriend, you can totally bring him ’round. We won’t be mean, or anything. Unless he’s a dick. If he’s a dick, all bets are off.”

“Naz. I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Whatever. The point still stands.”

Louis couldn’t help the smile, but he rolled his eyes for good measure. 

They both looked over as the door opened again and Calvin came in. “Are you wankers done in here? What are you doing, sharing bloody hand jobs?”

Nazim raised his eyebrows at Louis. Louis sighed and took a deep breath. “I’m gay. I was telling Nazim I’m gay.”

“Ah.” Calvin looked back and forth between the two of them, seemingly unfazed. “You gay too?” 

Nazim made a face. “Just him. I still like fanny.”

“Okay.” Calvin drew out the word like he was thinking. “Does Zayn know?”

“Uh, yeah?” Louis answered even though he didn’t understand what that had to do with anything. 

“Why am I last to know?” He put his hands on his hips. “I have a gay uncle. I’m okay with it.”

“Okay? Thanks?” Louis was relieved, and also confused. 

“Cal,” Nazim warned. 

“Whatever, who cares who you’re fucking as long as you’re getting some.” Calvin’s eyes widened. “New game plan: I’ll go scout the room for lads.” 

Louis barely had time to mutter an embarrassed “No, please don’t” before Calvin had ducked back out into the pub. Nazim bumped his shoulder against Louis’, wiggling his eyebrows. “You sure you don’t want Luke? I could hook it up.” 

“Oh my god, fuck off.” Louis followed Calvin out the door.

When Louis got back to the table he found a fresh pint waiting for him. Zayn gave him a thumbs up as he slid back into his spot. He looked around the pub and found Luke leaning against the bar, caging in some blond guy.

“Lou. Lou.” Calvin smacked him on the arm and pointed in the other direction. “What about that guy over there?”

Louis shook his head and took a long drink, then couldn’t stop the smile as he put the pint down.

  


***

  


The doorbell rang and Elgar tripped over Pig in his haste to open the door.

Elgar had invited Louis over to watch another match. He hadn’t been sure Louis was going to say yes, since he had disappeared in the middle of the night and then hadn’t been super communicative over texts, so when the message had came through that Louis would be there before kickoff, Elgar almost didn’t believe it.

“Hey. Hi. Hey! Good to see you,” Elgar said, opening the door. Louis was stood there, flushed and out of breath.

“Hey. Hi. Hey! To you too,” Louis said. 

Louis was in loose grey sweatshorts and when he raised his arms to pull off his hoodie, Elgar noticed that they dangled precariously close to the edge of his hip bones.

“Aren’t you cold?” Elgar asked, proud of himself that he hadn’t commented on the flat plane of his abs or the fact that he really wanted to drop to his knees and suck him off. 

“Nah.” Louis shook his head. “Was at the gym with Nazim and he goes to a fancy one not far from here, so I ran.”

“You… oh. Okay.” Elgar ushered him inside. “Can I get you water, or something?”

“Uh, yeah. Water would be great, actually.”

“Go make yourself comfortable. Sky Sports is already on and I’ll be right in.”

Elgar’s hands shook as he attempted to pour the water from the pitcher, so he set it down, placed his palms flat on the counter, and did the breathing exercises he normally talked Nick through.

He finished the job with steady hands and managed to carry their glasses over to the coffee table without spilling anything. Louis was sat on the floor, flanked by the dogs, as they pawed and whined at him, vying for his attention. 

Elgar could empathise. 

Louis picked up the glass closest to him. “Cheers.”

“You can…” Elgar patted the cushion next to him. “If you want. Or you could stay there too, if you’d rather.”

Louis snorted and drank half his glass in one go. “Nah, I’ll join you, if it’s all the same.”

He gave Elgar a lopsided smile and with final scratches behind their ears, apologised to the dogs for abandoning them. 

“They’ll survive.”

Louis made himself comfortable next to Elgar, then poked his thigh. “I like your shirt.”

Elgar looked down at his Superman vest and grey joggers. “You like Superman?”

Louis shrugged. “He’s fine. I’m more of a Marvel man.”

“Oh?” Elgar felt like he was missing something. “Were you being sarcastic?”

With an exaggerated eye roll Louis shook his head. “Looks good on you.”

Elgar bit back a goofy smile. 

“You’ve been good, mate?” Elgar asked. “Wasn’t sure after…”

“Yeah, I’m good. It was… a lot. To like, deal with. Needed to sort myself out.”

“Is that why you left? Was it too much?” Elgar knew as well as anyone one threesome was plenty for some people. He hoped Louis didn’t fall into that category, but braced himself for that reality.

Louis picked at the fraying edge of his shorts. “What?”

“Was hoping you were going to stick around for brekkie. Maybe another round if you were up for it, but definitely a cuppa at the very least.” Would’ve tried his best at a proper fry up even, had he asked.

Louis shrugged, still avoiding Elgar’s eyes. “I wasn’t sure about, protocol. Felt a bit like you two were going to wake up to your domestic bliss and I’d’ve overstayed my welcome.”

“Fuck. Did we… was there something we said that made you think that? Cuz that’s not it at all.” Louis finally looked up at him, biting his lip and searching his face. “We wanted you to stay. Do the whole ‘wake up and wipe away the sleep and stretch in bed’ thing with you in the morning.” 

Elgar was pretty sure Louis’d have some epically cute bed head in the mornings.

“I dunno,” Louis said. Elgar watched his Adam’s apple bob. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I was just…”

Louis didn’t look like he was going to finish that thought. “Okay,” Elgar said cautiously, “Please promise you’ll say something next time, if you’re feeling that way.”

“Do you have a lot of next times?”

There had been a few. Dave had been good fun for a while until he paired off with Liv and that was the end of that. Michael had come around a few times. Rita, twice, to experiment. Harry. Louis didn’t need to know about any of that. “Sometimes.”

“Vague.”

Elgar shrugged. “Not in the habit of gossiping about friends to other friends. That’s more… Nick.”

Louis’ eyes went wide. Elgar loved how expressive his face was; he wanted to watch him come over and over again. 

Elgar realised what his previous statement probably sounded like. “Shit. No. Sorry. Nick’s not going to like, gossip about you.”

Louis looked skeptical. “He will. But he’ll probably be… _vague_.” 

“Fair enough.” Elgar chuckled. “Don’t think he’s going to let out how great a shag you are. Doubt he fancies any competition.”

Louis scoffed. “You don’t have to do that, you know. Say things like that.”

“Like what?”

“That I’m a good shag.”

“Why wouldn’t I say that? Did you not think it was good?”

“No, I… It was brilliant. I wasn’t sure if you two… I was a bit of a mess.”

“You were human. Vulnerable and open—” 

Louis scoffed at the unintentional double entendre.

“And gorgeous and ravishing and—”

A smile was playing on Louis’ lips. “Okay. Okay. Laying it on bit thick.” 

Elgar loved flustering Louis. He was normally so put together and knowing that he could get under his skin, make him squirm, just from peppering him with compliments made him want to do it again and again.

“So I don’t know what rubbish you’ve heard in the past, but I’m quite keen to experience you again.”

“I haven’t, uh…”

Louis’ shy flush turned into something that cagier as he carefully avoided Elgar’s eyes. “Haven’t what?”

A muscle twitched in Louis’ face as he sat silently. 

“I haven’t… Well, I have, like, in club loos, but I’ve never done _that_ , like, in a bed… with someone, people, I knew.”

Elgar’s heart dropped. “What? Why didn’t you—?”

Louis shook his head as he bit his lip. “It not a big thing.”

“To some people it is…”

Louis clapped softly, getting Pig and Stinky’s attention and they ambled over to him. Elgar waited as they jumped up on the couch and Louis gave them a few gentle pets. 

“That’s why I had to go, that night. Like, it was just a lot to think about—getting penetrated.” Louis chucked uncomfortably and buried in face in Pig’s side. “God. Penetrated.”

“Did you…? It seemed like you enjoyed it… But, like…”

“I did. I had thought about it, you know, but I wasn’t sure if I was going to like it. I thought it was going to be… emasculating?”

“Were you?”

“Emasculated?” Louis laughed. “Nah, still felt like a dude. And like…” He covered his face with his hands.

“No, no.” Elgar laughed, pulled them down so he could see the whole range of Louis’ emotions. “What were you going to say?”

“I liked it. Like, the knowing that I could give that pleasure. Like, fuck, like, he was getting off because of me? I guess it’s like the same with hand jobs or whatever, but it’s… different?”

“Yeah, I think I know what you mean. When I bottom—”

“You bottom?” 

Elgar was going to have to pick Louis’ jaw up from the ground.

“Yes, I bottom. I like to, sort of, lead, but I can still get fucked. Nick and I are both verse.” Elgar smirked. “There are all sorts of possibilities?”

“Would you?” Louis cleared his throat. “Would you let me top you?” 

“Yeah, I’m sure I’d love that.”

“Really?” Louis squeaked. 

After Elgar adjusted himself in his joggers that left nothing to the imagination, he leaned in close to Louis. “I’d love to get that pretty cock in me.”

Louis’ whole neck turned red. “Oh.”

Elgar ran a finger down the heated skin. “Love how much you love that.”

“Okay, okay.” Louis turned and swatted Elgar’s hand away. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, loverboy.”

Elgar groaned. “Right. Okay, yes.” He turned back to the telly. “This match is rubbish. Want to watch _Justice League?_ ” Elgar smirked again, prepared for the smack his thigh got.

“Fuck no. But you could put on any MCU and I’ll be happy.”

That was something Elgar could definitely do.

  


***

  


The buzzing of the tattoo gun stopped and Louis looked over his shoulder at Nick’s leg. “It looks fucking sick, Nick,” Louis said, with what Nick was hoping was a little awe. Louis had spent most of the time playing with Nick’s bracelets and holding his hand, and giving Nick these soft smiles as Nick talked about his nieces and nephews, his back to the bit of art being permanently added to Nick’s body.

“Almost done, mate,” said the tattoo artist, as he swiped Nick’s leg with a bit of towel. “Are you sure you don’t want to get one too?” he asked Louis.

Nick was pretty sure Louis was oblivious to the way the tattoo artist was flirting with him. He at least had the decency to catalogue Louis’ body when Louis’s back was turned. Not that Nick liked it, at all.

“Nah, not today,” Louis said, with another one of those soft smiles that kept making his knees weak. “Today’s all about this one.” He tilted his head in Nick’s direction.

It wasn’t like Nick was getting his second thigh tattoo just because Louis appreciated his first. Not even because Louis biting down on the tattooed “1912” was somehow unbelievably sexy… Nick was pretty sure Louis biting him wasn’t supposed to be as much of a turn-on as it was, but it turned out that Nick was a sucker for a pretty boy who was willing to just _go for it_ when he wanted something, so when Louis made an offhand mention that he should get a second tattoo for his other thigh, it wasn’t a coincidence that Nick started looking for ideas that same day. 

As promised, it didn’t take that much longer for him to finish the rose, and before Nick knew it the tattoo artist was taking a few pictures and then wrapping up his leg. 

“You sure you’re still up for it?” Louis asked as the last bit of tape was adhered to Nick’s leg. It was going to be a bitch to peel off later. Nick had made a deal with Louis: Louis would hang out with Nick at the studio while he got inked, then Louis would take Nick skateboarding. Nick felt like he got the short end of that deal since it seemed like it’d be all pain on his part, but then Louis was goading him into it and he found himself agreeing. 

“Sure, yeah, unless you’ve changed your mind?” Nick guessed by Louis’ gleeful face there was no way he was going to miss a chance to teach Nick how to skateboard. 

Louis cackled and Nick knew he was right.

“Bye! Thanks again!” Nick called out behind him as they left.

“Nice to meet you!” Louis chirped before the door shut. 

Nick offered to help Louis carry the bag of padding he was, thankfully, going to make Nick wear, while Louis carried a board in each hand while they walked to the skate park. Louis was uncharacteristically quiet until Nick called him on it.

“He’s not going to…” Louis faltered. “This feels like a shit thing to ask.”

“Just ask,” Nick prodded. 

“He didn’t even know who I was, so it’s not like I should be concerned, but he’s not going to like, tell, people, that I was there with you, will he?”

“Nah,” Nick hip checked Louis. “They won’t say anything. They like their celebrity clientele there and wouldn’t risk it.”

“Cool,” Louis said as he visibly relaxed. Then he snorted. He put on his best posh accent. “Celebrity.”

“Oh, shut it.” Nick placed his hand over Louis’ mouth, and Louis licked it. “Gross.”

Louis gave him a one-shouldered shrug.

“Are your friends at the skate park going to rat us out?” Nick asked. He didn’t care, but he didn’t want Louis exposed any more than he wanted to be exposed.

“Doubt it. They’ll be too busy trying to impress each other with tricks than paying attention to you, in full pads, tottering on the board.”

“So you’ve got high hopes for me, do you?” Nick smirked. It was going to be absolutely the most embarrassing thing he ever did and Louis was going to love every moment.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

“Hey, Lou. Can I ask you a question.”

“Sure thing, buttercup.”

“Oi!” Nick loved to pretend he hated the names Louis would throw at him. “How’s uni?”

Louis shrugged. “Fine.”

“You like it?”

“I guess? I don’t hate it. I’m not sure how much will translate to the working world, but… yeah, it’s fine.”

“How’d you end up at London Met?”

“Only place I got accepted.”

“Okay, but, how did you choose to apply there? Like, what drew you to it?”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you want to know? What a random question.”

“It’s been a million years since I went to uni and—”

“Hardly. You’re not ancient.”

“I know, but I… okay, please don’t tell anyone…”

Louis looked as lost as Nick felt. Then he made a silly face and launched himself at Nick, trying to mess up his styled quiff.

“The hair! The hair! You know you’re not allowed to touch the hair.” Nick could fight back by launching into an all-out tickle war, but that wasn’t quite the way to keep attention off themselves on the street.

He settled for ruffling Louis’ hair in retaliation. 

After a few quiet steps, Nick admitted, “I’m thinking about going back to school.” It felt good saying it outloud, finally. Things between him and Elgar had been tough recently and there hadn’t been a good time to mention it, or anything regarding the future, really. 

“Ha! Nicholas, you are a funny one.”

Nick wished that reaction had been unexpected. “Not a joke.” It was probably a terrible idea.

“Oh,” Louis’ face was screwed up in confusion. “Soz. Okay. What… What? Why would you put yourself through that again?”

Nick shrugged. He hadn’t planned on saying anything about it to Louis, but it just fell out of his mouth. Louis was exceedingly easy to talk to, not a judgmental bone in his body. He always felt like Louis heard him. “Everyone knows listeners are dropping.” The truth was painful.

“But—”

“Yes, believe me, I know the buts better than you. But, this isn’t a job I can do forever. I’ve been at it a few years, and I’ve been trying to decide what to do when it’s all over. Something that includes getting up at a decent hour, but, I dunno, maybe something that doesn’t have anything to do with radio.”

“This is your dream job.”

“It was my dream. And now I’m doing it. So I think I need a new dream.” That was the way it worked, right? Nothing lasted forever.

“What are you thinking?” Louis sat on his skateboard and Nick followed suit.

“Design, maybe? I don’t know. I’m still trying to decide. The good news is that I don’t need to decide anything now, but I want to have some idea when I’m sacked.”

“Nick!” Louis rolled his eyes. 

“Just keeping my options open.”

“Well, whatever you decide, I’m sure you’ll do great.”

“Thanks, mum.”

“Shut it. I know it’s nothing something you’ll take lightly, so I’m sure you’ll work hard and smash it.”

It was nice to hear, as much as Nick hated to admit it. And it was true, he did have time to think about it, so at the moment he could concentrate on not falling on his arse while attempting to keep balanced on Louis’ spare board. 

“Hey, Lou?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you not mention this to Elgar right away?” He scratched the back of his next to avoid looking at Louis. He knew they talked, often. Louis had slid right into their lives, snapping into place like they had unknowingly been waiting for him. The sex was incredible, but so was the friendship, the way he brightened the room. The way Elgar brightened around him. 

“Uh, sure?”

“Not like… it’s not a secret. It’s just new, haven’t mentioned it yet.”

“Okay.” Louis’ brow furrowed.

“I’ll probably tell him tonight, like… now that’s out there.” 

“Okay.” Louis shrugged. “Want to keep skating?”

Nick sighed in relief at the out. Louis put his hand out to help Nick stand. He was never going to be ready for the halfpipe, but spending the rest of the afternoon at Louis’ side sounded like another dream come true.


	4. Chapter 4

The match was more than Elgar could’ve hoped for. Emirates Stadium was in a frenzy, and Louis was wide-eyed and captivated the whole time. It was totally worth the cajoling it had taken for Louis to agree to go.

“I can’t believe Nick didn’t want to see that match!” Louis shook his head as they walked out of the gates and into London. Elgar’s phone vibrated in his pocket but he ignored it. 

“Not much into footie,” Elgar said. “But, we got tickets to a boxing match a while ago and he was proper into that. Fancies himself a boxer now.”

Elgar laughed as he remembered their trainer’s face when Nick had brought it up. 

“Thanks again,” Louis said, quickly. “For all of it. Are you sure I can’t pay for my ticket?”

Elgar sighed. “You can’t. First of all because they were a gift and I’d be a dick if I accepted. I’m just glad the ticket didn’t go to waste.”

They were walking towards the tube and Elgar wasn’t ready to let go yet. “Wanna go to dinner?”

“What’s the second thing?” Louis asked, as he bumped his shoulder into Elgar’s side. 

He wanted to put his arm around Louis, pull him in tight, snog him until he couldn’t feel his lips. His phone vibrated again. “What?”

“First was the gift thing. Made it sound like there was more than one reason. You holding out on me?” Louis’ smile was so wide, Elgar wanted to run his tongue along Louis’ canines.

“You’re a uni student.”

“Yes,” Louis laughed. “Last year though.”

“I mean,” he cleared his throat because even though it was a fact, it was still awkward as fuck. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to talking about money. “I get paid a lot. So even if they weren’t a gift, sometimes I like to do nice things for my friends.”

“Friends?” Louis raised his eyebrows.

“Yes,” Elgar chuckled. “Friends. People I care for. Like to hang out with…” Occasionally eat out for hours. He shoved his hands in his pockets.

“I’m not posh like your other friends.”

Elgar rolled his eyes. “I’m not posh either.”

“You’re a bit posh. I’ve been to your house. The point is—”

“I’m not posh,” Elgar doubled down under his breath.

“The point is, you do nice things for your, uh, friends, but they probably do dead nice things for you too.”

Elgar couldn’t ignore his phone any longer. He pulled it out and went cross-eyed at the string of messages from Nick. He quickly typed out a message asking if Louis could join them for dinner. He hoped Nick wouldn’t say no, but the deal was that Elgar could go to the match with a friend, if they went out to dinner together. 

The bubbles appeared then disappeared. “Everything okay?” Louis asked. Appeared then disappeared.

“Yeah, ’M just supposed to meet Nick…”

“Oh.” Louis shuffled his feet. “Didn’t mean to hold you up.”

“No. No! Just… wait.”

The phone vibrated again and he looked down to read that Louis could come if Elgar wanted him to, and that Nick was already on his way to their favourite sushi restaurant. Without overthinking it, Elgar turned to Louis. “Wanna come with?”

“I don’t want to third wheel if you lads are like…”

“Nah. I honestly can’t remember the last time we had dinner out, just the two of us. You won’t be interrupting anything.”

“But also—”

Louis looked so worried. The impulse to scoop him up and soothe his brow was strong.

“The posh thing—” Louis scuffed his shoes against the sidewalk. “I can’t afford…”

“Oh, _pffft_.” There was no reason for him to worry about that. “First of all…” He elbowed Louis and managed to get a small laugh out of him. “Seriously. You’ve obviously never had sushi with Nick. He’ll order the whole menu and eat like a tenth of it. You’d be doing us a favor, actually.”

Louis didn’t look convinced. 

“Okay, you can pay for the cab there.”

Louis burst out laughing. “Mate. A fucking cab. What kind of posh fuck do you think I am? I ride the tube. Proud owner of an Oyster Card. So thanks for the offer, but—”

“Then figure out how we get there by tube and buy my Oyster Card and we’ll call it even, okay?”

“That’s a bloody bad deal.”

Elgar winked. “I’m posh. Guess I don’t know any better.” He pulled up the address and shoved his phone in Louis’ direction. “May the force be with you, young padawan.”

“What even… okay, this isn’t hard. You were honestly going to pay a cab to get there?”

Elgar shrugged. Louis rolled his eyes with a smile. They descended into the station and Elgar followed him onto a tube car. 

  
  


When they got to their stop, Elgar followed Louis through the station again, and up to the street. After walking a block, Louis threw his hands up “ta-da!” in front of the restaurant. Nick was still stuck in traffic, so Louis and Elgar got a table and ordered their drinks. 

When Nick finally arrived Louis and Elgar were laughing so hard that tears were collecting at the corner of Elgar’s eyes. 

“Hey, babe,” he said, still chuckling, as he stood and kissed Nick on the cheek. 

Nick looked back and forth between them as he got situated. “Seems I was missing the fun.”

“Nah,” Louis said, “Was just telling him about coming out to my roommates.” He turned back to Elgar. “Anyway, it was all fine.”

Elgar asked Nick, “How was your day?”

Nick was trying and failing to flag down their waiter’s attention, mumbling something about a drink. “Shitty.” When it was clear no one was coming anytime soon, Nick turned back to them with a forced smile. “Glad the roommate thing went okay.” 

“Sorry, babe,” Elgar said.

“So, Louis.” Nick turned to him. “What’s your favourite?”

“My favourite what?”

“Sushi.”

Louis shrugged. “Never really had it.”

“You’ve… what?” 

Elgar was enjoying the gobsmacked look on Nick’s face. “You’re about to take his sushi virginity.” He started to laugh at his own joke when Louis choked on his drink and ended up with a coughing fit. 

“Jesus, EJ. Crass much?” Nick snarked. He waved at another passing waiter and when they walked by without a glance his way he snapped, “Honestly, who do you have to fuck around here to get a drink?” 

Elgar didn’t know what bug had crawled up Nick’s arse and died. After the waitress finally came around and Nick ordered far too much food, and a double G&T, they settled into a mostly easy conversation, until Elgar got the distinct feeling Nick was ignoring him.

Or he might have been over thinking and Nick really was that invested in explaining the rolls and sashimi in front of them to Louis, in between Louis’ bites of the chicken katsu. Elgar knew he’d like that, as Louis’ diet still consisted of an alarming amount of chicken fingers.

“Nick. Can you pass the soy sauce?” Elgar asked for the second time. Nick rolled his eyes and passed it over. “Seriously?” The mild annoyance was rapidly snowballing. “Can you pass the reduced sodium soy sauce, darling?”

“So what’d you think of that roll?” Nick directed the question at Louis, who looked back and forth between them and then passed the other bottle to Elgar. 

“Thanks, Lou.”

Louis gave a weak smile and turned back to Nick. He was wringing his napkin in his lap. “Is everything okay?”

“Fine,” Nick sighed. “Just a long day.” 

Louis looked back to Elgar. Elgar shrugged. Nick was very clearly in a foul mood.

“Okay,” Louis said slowly. He picked up another roll and popped it in his mouth and made a little face of disgust. Elgar made a mental note to not order the tuna mushroom one again.

He looked up when Nick scoffed. 

“What?” Elgar asked, barely concealing how frustrated he was. He hadn’t even said anything. 

Nick waved his chopsticks around vaguely, as he expertly rolled his eyes.

“How was that one?” Nick asked Louis. 

Louis swallowed and took a long gulp of water. “Uh, fine?”

Elgar felt like pumping his fist in victory. Any idiot could see that Louis hated it.

“You should try this one next,” Elgar said, pointing at the tempura fried shrimp. “I think you’ll like it.” Elgar took one for himself, it was crunchy and tasty and warm and he knew Louis would love it. He gave a smile of satisfaction at Nick when Louis moaned after his first bite.

“Think you'll do another collection? Like you did with Topman?” Louis asked Nick after swallowing. 

Elgar tapped his toes against Nick’s shin, a quick little one two three, _I love you_. He had adored Nick’s collection, was dead proud of him when it all came together. 

“Yeah, that’s the plan. I’d love to do another collection, but inspiration and time and… I’d really like to, someday.”

Elgar hoped that Nick was going to do another one, but every time he had brought it up Nick squirmed, and rarely gave a straight answer. He had expected one of Nick’s stock answers that he gave nosy colleagues and extended family. Their friends had long since stopped asking. But Nicked seemed, bashful, almost, answering Louis, and excited at the prospect of getting back to it.

“Cool.” Louis’ eyes lit up. “I loved that, like, animal print t-shirt. I’m sure I’d look like a prat in it, but it was sick.”

Nick looked offended. “Would not. You could totally pull it off, what with your whole… thing you have going on.”

“My thing?” Louis echoed. 

Elgar knew exactly what Nick was talking about. Louis’ whole _thing_ could definitely pull off that shirt.

“Your look,” Elgar explained. “You could do with some more prints. Could definitely get away with it.”

“You think?” Louis looked skeptical and turned back to Nick.

“Uh, yeah. You’d be brilliant in like a deep aubergine with some oversized white lightening bolts. Or, oh oh oh! I’ve sketched this idea of a white t-shirt with light grey ice lollies all over, like super pale.”

That was news to Elgar; he hadn’t known that Nick was designing again. There was the night they’d gotten high and sketched out their dream tuxes for their wedding, but even that was ages ago and he was pretty sure those had gone into the bin the next morning. He wondered what else he had been sketching in secret.

“Do you have a lot of ideas, now?” Elgar asked. 

“Nah, just spitballing.”

“Right.” Elgar didn’t believe him. 

He wondered when Nick had started to dress Louis in his mind, if it was before or after they’d gotten Louis out of his clothes. 

  


***

  


In the Uber home—Uber, Nick had insisted as Elgar wistfully watched Louis turn the corner on his way back to the tube—Nick sulked as he looked out the window as London passed by.

They silently walked into their house, dealt with the dogs, and got themselves ready for bed. As they lay side-by-side on their backs, Nick knew this was going to blow up in his face if he didn’t meet it head on.

“You like him,” Nick finally said, to the ceiling.

“Of course I do,” Elgar muttered.

“No.” Nick sighed. The defensiveness confirmed it. “You really like him. Like, more than a mate. More than a fun occasional shag.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Then there was silence again. He could feel Elgar shifting beside him.

“I don’t,” Elgar said, softer. “I love you.”

“I know.” He did. “But, I think it’s more complicated than that.”

Elgar turned, accusatory, “And what was that today? How long, exactly, has he been your muse?”

“Watch it, Elgar.”

“I’m just saying. When you point a finger—”

“Fuck you.”

“Not in the mood.”

“No.” Nick knew it was unfair and untrue, but claws were out. “Don’t suppose you would be unless you were thinking about him.”

“Wow. Okay. Never mind what we did this morning, I guess.”

Nick didn’t quite have a response to that. That morning had been… gentle, slow, painfully intimate in a way that normally had Nick breaking eye contact. Instead he’d asked Elgar out on a sushi date.

“And then you invited him to dinner,” Nick said, without any malice. Christ, was he tired.

Elgar shifted again, then with a huff he was collecting his pillow and walking out of the room. He paused just outside of the door. “You could’ve said no, Nick. I did ask.”

He didn’t want that, though. And Elgar must’ve known, so Nick pulled the duvet up to his chin and ran his hand over the warm sheets on Elgar’s side of the bed. He didn’t want Elgar to want Louis there. He didn’t want to say no to Elgar, and let resentment fester. He had wanted Elgar to be the adult and read through his passive-aggressive message.

And then _Louis_ had been great at dinner. Gorgeous and flushed and embarrassed when the check came, but adventurous with whatever Nick prompted him to put in his mouth, even if he didn’t necessarily like it, and just… fun. Of course Nick wanted to make him some clothes that were befitting of him.

Fuck.

Nick spent the whole of the night tossing and turning alone in bed, parsing out what that meant.

  


***

  


Elgar slept in terrible fits and starts. He kept waking, fluffing his pillow, and chasing away the voice in his head telling him that Nick was right. At some point in the middle of the night, he had turned on the television and lowered the volume. In case Nick had managed to fall asleep, Elgar didn’t want to wake him through their thin walls. The sheets didn’t smell right, they were too clean, and this was the firmer mattress Nick had insisted on for when Harry stayed the night… Elgar hated everything about it. But he had made his bed, so he was going to lie in it. They could fix it in the morning. 

Elgar eventually heard Nick’s alarm go off, then the shower, and finally his feet stomping downstairs to finish off his morning routine. Elgar kicked the covers off, then went for a wee and to clean his teeth before going for a run. Nathan had already emailed his schedule over, and as much as he wanted to crawl back into bed, he needed to be an adult and show his face at work. 

Not like it was much use; he was distracted and antsy all day and mainlined coffee to stay awake. 

Elgar looked down at this phone, considered calling Nick, then continued to stare at his phone. 

“You’re being weird today,” Nathan said. “Nick again?”

“Not weird,” Elgar countered. 

Nathan thrust the Balenciaga agreement at him. Elgar signed. And with a roll of his eyes, Nathan left him alone again. 

The day dragged until that evening, when he was back at home and he and Nick were avoiding eye contact, making their tea. 

“Will you admit yet that you fancy him?” Nick asked, mug clasped between his hands at his chest. 

Nick looked awful. Sounded awful too. Elgar had punished himself by listening to some of Nick’s show, but the banter had been too forced and the pacing had been off. He’d ended up turning it off. Even he wasn’t that much of a masochist that he’d listen to one of Nick’s worst shows, knowing it was all his fault. 

“I don’t…” Elgar dropped his chin to his chest, then squatted to pet Pig. “It’s not that simple, Nick. Yes, of course I like him. I spend ninety percent of my life with models and celebrities and you know I’m not—I love what I do even if it’s not my scene.” Pig rolled over, showing her belly. Elgar gently rubbed her underside. It was the softest feeling in the world. “He’s… real.”

“Real?”

“Yes, real.”

“I wanted a _real_ date night yesterday. We never fucking go on dates anymore. Work, exhaustion, blah blah. But it’d be nice, sometimes, to go out with you.” Nick looked down at the pair of them, then started fingering his slew of bracelets. “Just you.”

Elgar stood. “You’ve got to tell me, babe.” He reached out to grasp Nick’s hand and intertwine their fingers. Pig turned and gave him a side eye from abandonment. “We were having a laugh. And I didn’t want it to end. _You_ understand that, surely.”

Nick squeezed his hand. “We’re not talking about The Morning After The Brits.”

Elgar gave a wry smile. “You brought it up, not me.” He hadn’t planned to bring Harry into it.

“I did.” Nick frowned. “Say something. In the morning.”

Elgar was over this non-fight. If Nick was calling off this thing with Louis, Elgar just wanted him to say it. “You didn’t. Not when I specifically asked. You were being a passive aggressive little shit. And I know that because I wrote the course on being a passive aggressive shit.”

Nick’s eyebrows jumped to his hairline and he dropped Elgar’s hand like he’d been burned. “So you knew what I wanted and still ignored it?” Nick scoffed. “Great.”

“Yes.” Elgar threw his arms up in defeat. “Because I was being a selfish dick and having fun with a friend and I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.”

“You are a selfish dick.”

“Do you feel better now that you’ve gotten to say it?”

Nick deflated. “Not really.”

“Okay.” Elgar sighed and stepped into Nick’s space. He smelled of drying sweat from the gym and the cologne Elgar had gotten him for his birthday. “You don’t need to be jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.”

Nick wouldn’t meet his eye, even standing that close. Elgar ran a hand through Nick’s mussed up curls, teased a thumb across the curve of Nick’s ear. Elgar pulled him in for a hug.

“I’m not!” Nick insisted.

“Okay.” Elgar couldn’t force him to say it. He didn’t know where to go from here. He stepped back and looked Nick in the eye. “Louis’ just a breath of fresh air.”

“Are you saying I’m stale airplane air?”

Elgar huffed out a breath between his teeth. “I’m not. At all. Stop jumping to your conclusions. I’m saying that—”

“You’re different around him.”

“Christ, Nick.”

“I want you to admit you like him.”

Elgar weighed his options. Neither one was particularly pleasant. Continue the circular fight. Give in and let Nick win after he was the one who started all this with Louis. 

He shook his head and turned around, pressing both palms against the counter. “At the most, it’s just a touch of infatuation. Which you’ve had too, by the way, and it’ll wane. Like always.” He looked over his shoulder at Nick. “Like last time.”

Nick flushed. “That wasn’t—” 

Nick was back to the bracelets again. Elgar wondered if he remembered which tour stop Harry had been on when he bought Nick the braided one that was wrapped around his pointer finger.

“It was. Don’t lie.” 

“Not the same thing.” Nick crossed his arms against his chest.

“Because he didn’t want you back?”

Nick’s eyes were calculating. “Because he did and I still chose you.”

Elgar let out a sigh. He’d never quite understood what had happened with Harry, only that Nick had called it off and things had gone back to normal. He pulled Nick to the floor and into his arms, letting Nick rest his head against his shoulder. 

“Harry was a long time ago, and it’s over and we’re all friends now. I would have chosen you over him every day of the week.” 

“And you don’t think I’m going to choose you now?” Elgar asked quietly. 

“Hard to see why you would, when Louis’ an option. You have seen him, right?”

He wanted to cry. It was so ridiculous how Nick saw himself. “He’s lovely. But Nick, fuck, he doesn’t hold a candle to you.”

Nick rolled his lips and let out a noise of disbelief. As he stretched his legs out in front of him he flexed and pointed his toes.

Elgar put a tight hold on Nick’s thigh. “If I have to spend the rest of my life—which, in case you forgot, we’re engaged and I want to be with you forevermore—showing you how gorgeous you are, I will.”

“The two of you are—”

“What we are. Nick. Your eyes. Your mouth. Your miles of freckled skin. Your fucking hands.” Elgar laced their fingers together. “You’re beautiful,” he finally warbled out in a terrible James Blunt impression. He’d love for Nick to see himself the way Elgar did. ”The point is I’m not ever choosing him over you. Not when it matters. It’s just a crush.”

Nick gently banged the back of his his head against the cupboard. “I know.”

“Do you?” Elgar wanted to kick himself for offering what he was about to offer, but it was true, Nick was his ride or die. “If it helps, we can stop seeing him. You’re—”

“No. I don’t want that. Fuck. That night was _so_ good. I just don’t want to be lost in the shuffle.”

“Never.” Elgar leaned in for a small kiss.

With a quick smile, Nick stood then walked to wine rack. “Need some of the good stuff after that.” 

It was all going to be fine. Elgar totally had this under control.

  


***

  


The rain fell hard and steady all day. Luckily, Louis had brought his books with him the night before when he had shown up on Elgar and Nick’s doorstep, which meant he could stay snuggled in bed until they had all three woken up and gotten off with lazy, slow sex. Then Louis put on one of Nick’s oversized jumpers that hung down past Louis’ hands to putter around the house. Louis made tea while the other two cobbled together a breakfast with whatever was in the fridge. Then they all migrated to the living room to have a day together. Movies and the dogs and warm bodies helped pass the time while Louis revised, his books and notes and highlighters and pens scattered around him as they changed positions and places in the room. 

Louis knew they had dinner reservations at some posh new place Nick had been wanting to try, and he dreaded the idea of having to get ready (a long, warm shower while pressed between Nick and Elgar aside) and properly dressed just to go out into the monsoon. He tucked himself under Nick’s arm, sitting sideways on the sofa, and pulled his knees up to balance his book against. 

“Hey, Nicholas?” he asked in his sweetest voice.

“What do you want now, Louislas?” Nick asked in an equally saccharine tone.

Louis dug his elbow into Nick’s thigh until Nick yelped. 

“Just wondering how set you were on eating at Cora Pearl tonight.” Louis batted his eyelashes for good measure.

Nick smirked. “I made the reservation weeks ago—”

“You made the reservation yesterday,” Louis corrected.

“But I’ve wanted to eat there for weeks.”

“So it isn’t so important to you because you put it off for weeks.”

“Only because I wanted all three of us to get to go and we’ve all been busy.”

“I don’t even like posh food,” Louis said. 

“You’ve liked all of the—”

“Most of the—” Elgar chimed in.

“Some of the—” Louis said.

“—quote posh unquote food you’ve had with us,” Nick finished.

Louis stuck his bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. “It hasn’t all been awful. But, honestly, I don’t want to move.” He inched backwards, crowding into Nick’s space. “I’m so cosy next to you and at the restaurant I won’t be able to touch you at all.” He dropped the elbow still resting on Nick’s thigh into the space between his legs and pushed back, until Nick shifted slightly and pressed himself into Louis’ arm. 

“Could be a little adventurous; I’m not against some secret exhibitionism.” Nick kissed the crown of Louis’ head. 

“What kind of girl do you take me for?” Louis said with mock outrage. 

Elgar reached out and wrapped his hand around Louis’ ankle and squeezed. 

“A girl who’s looking to score tonight,” Nick answered.

“Well, you’re not wrong.” Louis shrugged. “But really, do we have to go out? Can’t we just order in and keep this cuddle-fest going?”

“What do you want, a curry?” Elgar asked. 

“Could do. But I could murder some Dominos.”

“Dominos,” Nick echoed flatly. 

“Haven’t had that in years,” Elgar said.

“I don’t understand how you survive without it.”

“Oh,” Nick said wistfully, “to be twenty-something with a cast iron stomach again.”

“Ha. Ha. Was just an idea. If you’re set on trekking into the storm, I’ll tag along.”

Elgar squeezed his ankle again and then gave Nick an eyebrows-raised look.

Louis went back to his revising. 

“Fine!” Nick said. “We’ll cancel and order pizza.”

Louis tossed his book to the floor and spun around to throw himself into Nick’s arms. He landed on Nick’s thighs, facing him, and dove in for a deep, long kiss. “I knew you’d see it my way,” Louis said when he finally pulled back for a breath. 

Elgar moved from where had been sitting on the other end of the couch to Nick’s side, where he leaned up and pulled Louis close. “I’m getting jealous,” he said against Louis’ lips, before pressing his own against Louis.

From there it devolved into handjobs on the couch and as Nick got up to find something to wipe them all down with, Louis picked up his phone and opened the Dominos app. 

“Toppings?” Louis asked Elgar. 

“Literally, whatever. I’m not picky when it comes to pizza.”

“Veg, please,” Nick said, sauntering in naked with both a wet and a dry flannel. 

“Gross, but okay,” Louis said. “I normally just do double cheese pepperoni or whatever the deal is, cuz the lads and I are skint.”

Nick carefully cleaned up the mess on Louis’ thighs then turned to do the same to Elgar. 

“What’s the ideal order?” Elgar asked.

“Double cheese, ham, pepperoni, and jalapeños.”

“And you say veg is gross?” Nick asked.

“Best order ever, that is.”

“Then get it.” Elgar shrugged. “It’s on us. Get whatever you want, veggie fest for Nicholas, and I’ll have sweet corn and chicken.”

Louis bit his lip and did a bit of maths. They had been taking him out often enough that even though this would normally blow his budget, he thought he could swing it. 

“You’ve got a deal,” Louis said as he submitted the order. “It’s gonna be great, boys. I got extra garlic herb dip, too.”

When the doorbell rang, Elgar jumped up, pulled his shorts on, and went to get the pizza.

“Louis,” he said very slowly as he came back with the stack of pizzas. “He wouldn’t take the money. Said you had already paid.”

“Yep,” Louis said opening the top most box and then promptly closed it and passed it to Nick. “That’s yours.”

“You don’t need to buy us dinner.” Nick sounded confused.

“How much do we owe you?” Elgar asked as Louis handed his pizza over.

Louis opened his own and took a huge bite. It was delicious: gooey and salty and sweet and utter perfection. As he chewed he asked, “Really?” The next bite would be perfect with the dip so he peeled back the lid and dipped. “It’s my treat. Wanted to do something nice. It’s always on you, you know?”

“It’s on us because we have jobs and make money and—”

“I have a job and I make money,” Louis said.

“Yes, but—”

“No butts during dinner.” Louis didn’t want to argue about it. “Don’t want to feel like I’m kept, alright? Gotta pay my own way sometimes.”

Nick opened his mouth like he was going to argue until Elgar put a fist on his leg and shook his head.

“Thanks, Lou,” Elgar said as Nick snapped his mouth shut, then took a tiny bite.

Nick’s eyes went wide as he swallowed. “Fuck that’s good.” He gave Louis a smile. “Thanks. This was a great idea.”

They put on a movie and ate until they were all too full to do anything besides stare at the telly.

It started slowly, a single low moan from Nick, and a louder one from Elgar. They kept moaning occasionally, as though Louis knew it was from the grease bomb they just ate, he couldn’t help connecting it to the sounds they made in bed. 

After an unnecessarily loud moan from Elgar, Louis finally snapped. “You have to stop that or I’m going to drag you off to the bedroom.”

“Stop what?” Nick asked. 

“Those sex noises!”

“They’re not sex noises!” Elgar turned wide-eyed. “I think I’m dying.”

“Oh, you’re fine.” Louis dismissed his concerns with a flap of his hand. 

“I might not make it,” Elgar whined. “I need cuddles. It’s the only thing that will help me.”

Louis rolled his eyes, with a smile on his face, and plopped down next to Elgar. He gently rubbed his belly, occasionally wandering a bit lower for a cheeky feel. 

“I want in on this,” Nick said.

“My arms aren’t long enough. You’ll have to come over here.”

“I can’t,” Nick said, even as he started inching his way across the sofa.

Louis sprawled out between them, an arm stretched in either direction, comforting them as they recovered. It was still the best night he’d had all week. 

  


***

  


A few weeks later, Louis was straddled above Nick’s hips, slowly impaling himself on Nick’s cock. Nick’s eyes were wrenched closed because watching him—the look of concentration on his face, his soft abs, his thick thighs—was too much and Nick was afraid he’d spout off before he was more than tip-deep. Elgar was knelt beside Louis, rubbing the small of his back and whispering what he assumed was encouragement. He could only assume because the pounding of his blood in his ears as he remained still blocked out everything else. 

Louis’ bitten-off fingernails dug into Nick’s chest hair as he sank lower. With a final _oof,_ he landed astride Nick. Nick slowly opened his eyes at the view before him. Louis’ head was thrown back and he twisted around and into Elgar, their mouths meeting in a messy kiss. Elgar started to pull away and then gave him three quick pecks. Despite Nick being _in_ Louis, despite Louis clenching around him, it was seemingly Elgar’s hands on his torso making Louis quiver and jump.

He wasn’t jealous. They didn’t _do_ jealousy.

Nick took his chance to stare openly at Louis’ compact, curvy body. He ran his hands from Louis’ rib cage down to his knees and back again, drinking in his sparse chest hair, the closely-trimmed patch of pubic hair, his dick regaining interest twitch-by-twitch after it had flagged during his descent. Nick wanted to lick every inch of him. 

Louis’ lips were spit-slick and his eyes wide when he turned his attention back to Nick. Nick’s breath caught in his throat when he saw the look of pure want on Louis’ face, his pink cheeks and fluttering eyelashes as though he was still trying to seduce Nick. With a wanton moan, Louis started slowly, rocking his hips and Nick let him use him as he pleased while Louis got used to the feeling. Nick’s hands rested on the curve of his waist and he couldn’t draw his eyes away from Louis’ flexing abs and tiny, hard nipples.

Louis throwing his head back and whimpering drew Nick’s attention up to the stretch of his neck. Nick thumbed at the protruding ligament and Louis clenched around him, grinding down in little circles that felt so _fucking_ _good_. Louis’ eyes were wet and overwhelmed as they bored into Nick’s. Nick couldn’t look away if he tried. Nick wasn’t proud of his whines, but everything was static in his brain. The pleasure was so overwhelming he gave up on any hope of coherency.

As Louis bent down for a kiss, Nick arched up, tongue first, desperate for more of Louis against him, in him, surrounding him. The kiss was more clacking teeth and swiping tongues, but Nick still cried out “more” when Louis first tried to pull away.

When Louis did end the kiss, it was to plant his hands firmly on Nick’s torso for balance. He was using his glorious, thick thighs to raise and drop himself, riding Nick like he was born to do just that. Louis bit his lip and contorted his face as he was overcome with pleasure. He and Nick maintained eye contact as they crashed and rocked and rolled against each other. 

“Lou—” Nick panted, biting a kiss into Louis’ bottom lip. He mashed their lips together, completely unable to get enough of him. “Baby—”

“Fuck, Nick. I’m—”

“Lou— Louis—”

Louis gasped. “I’m— Please!”

They sped up, their movements becoming more erratic, as Nick fucked up roughly and Louis slammed himself down. Their skin slapped together as Nick wrapped a hand around Louis’ cock, jerking him off quickly and whispering encouragement. Louis cried out as he went rigid and then he was coming, spurting onto Nick’s stomach and clamping down around him. 

Nick slowed down, but then Louis pinched one of Nick’s nipples and begged, “Keep going. Please. _Fuck_ , don’t stop.”

So Nick held on to Louis’ hips and kept rocking into him. Louis flopped forward onto Nick chest, into his own mess, and gifted Nick’s torso with soft kisses. Nick held him tighter, his hands sliding across Louis’ sweat-slick lower back and tucking his head in Louis’ neck. Louis murmured nonsense into Nick’s skin. The crush of Louis’ mewls and sighs between his panting breaths brought Nick closer to his own release. With a few more rolls of Nick’s hips, Louis’ overstimulated body shivered against Nick’s tense muscles. Burying himself as far as he could into Louis, Nick finally let go, coming hard into the condom. He relaxed as his body came down from its high. 

Nick inexplicably felt like crying. He tucked a strand of hair behind Louis’ ear. That was so fucking good. He had felt like a man possessed. Louis gingerly raised himself one last time, letting Nick slide out of him, then collapsed into the mess he’d made on Nick. Nick nuzzled into Louis’ neck, peppering kisses everywhere he could.

A flash of dark skin caught his eye, startling him out of the moment. _Oh_. He looked over at Elgar, who was slowly jerking himself and staring at where they had just been joined.

“EJ,” Nick said, “Let me help.”

Elgar swatted away his hand. “I’m close.”

Louis dozed in Nick’s arms as Nick watched Elgar work himself over, and finally came in a small puddle on the sheet. With a sigh, he tipped over, resting his head near Nick’s knee. Louis was warm, still sweating and slick where he was cuddled against Nick’s side. Louis hadn’t moved. Nick thrilled at knowing he was useless and heavy-limbed after his orgasm. He kissed his temple again.

For a while the only sound was their heavy breathing. Nick really didn’t want to move, he wanted Louis to fall asleep tucked in beside him, but eventually, with thoughts of his absurdly early alarm, he got up to take a quick shower. It was in, clean the spots of come, his pits, and crotch, and back out again.

Nick jumped and nearly brained himself when he switched the water off and turned to see Elgar stood there with a towel.

“Fuck, you scared me.”

Elgar bit his lip and turned to the sink after passing Nick the towel. Nick watched him wash his face as he dried off, and with the towel secured around his waist, he took a cautious step towards him.

Elgar dropped his face towel and slouched against the counter, his eyebrows drawn together and his lip caught between his teeth. He looked… lost. “What was that, Nick?” 

“What do you mean?” He had a pretty good idea, but maybe, just maybe, Elgar was concerned about the hot water usage, or post-shagging etiquette of not inviting Louis in for a shower. The knot that had settled into the pit of his stomach clenched.

Elgar’s mouth moved into a straight line, and he stared at Nick. Nick could usually dish it as well as he got, but with a thick swallow, he averted his eyes.

“Right. Okay,” Elgar said quietly. Nick looked back at him as he stood up straight. “So this is how it’s going to be?”

Nick bit down on his tongue. A bloom of pain before he could speak.

“Not even going to talk now?” Elgar shook his head.

Nick felt paralysed. There was too much racing around his brain. Guilt over focusing all his attentions on Louis. Sadness that Elgar looked so resigned. Fear that he couldn’t make this better, that it was all slipping through his fingers. Lust. Wanting to join Louis for round two. Anger that Elgar would’ve done the exact same thing given a chance. Elgar not inserting himself, not taking what he wanted, and then blaming Nick for not sharing.

“We are,” Nick finally said. “It’s just… complicated. I’m in a post-sex haze. M’brain’s still catching up.”

“Bullshit. More lies.”

Nick fingered the knot at his waist. He didn’t know when Elgar had learned to read him so well. But when it started to matter, when he started lying, he could pinpoint exactly. Louis had stayed over and they spent the day watching shit telly and eating Dominos, and Louis had brought his revision to do at the same time. He’d been sitting on the sofa, his legs under him, chewing on the end of a pen and reading his notes, and Nick had realised he never wanted him to leave.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Elgar.”

Elgar scoffed. “Why don’t you start with how you feel about him?”

“Not this again. I have work in two ticks and you want to get into this again. What are you jealous of, exactly? That I’ve gotten to give it to him twice now?”

Elgar’s eyes flashed.

A knock on the door caused them both to jump. 

“You two okay in there?” Louis asked.

They looked at each other from opposite sides of the sink. 

“Yeah,” Elgar said, gruff.

Nick opened the door with a forced smile on his face. “Bed?” he asked. 

Louis’ eyes flicked back and forth between Elgar and Nick, then he opened his mouth before snapping it shut without saying anything. Nick gently squeezed his shoulder as he walked past.

“Bed,” Elgar echoed. 

Nick pulled the first pair of pants he got his hand on from his drawer. He shimmied them on without taking off the towel first. 

“Okay?” Louis sounded hesitant. “I can leave if you—”

“Please don’t,” Elgar said at the same time as Nick muttered, “No.” 

“Okay…” Louis sat on the edge of the bed. “Do you have like… sides… that you normally…”

“Yeah, come ‘ere,” Elgar said as he crawled in next to Louis. He laid on his side, facing the center, and Louis laid down in his arms, facing him. Nick hung the towel back up in the washroom and came back out to both of them quiet, their breathing synced. 

Nick got into bed behind Louis, wrapping an arm around his waist and wiggling as close as he could get. Elgar, laid down on Louis’ other side, was careful to avoid touching Nick, pulling back quickly and readjusting when they brushed arms.

“G’night, Lou,” Nick whispered in his ear.

  


***

  


Louis couldn’t sleep. It was stifling going from sleeping alone to being sandwiched between Elgar and Nick. After they’d both fallen asleep, Louis laid there trying to figure out what the hell was up with them. He really wanted to leave, but they’d made such a big deal about it last time that he didn’t want to worry them.

He wiggled out from between their arms and then found a white button-front shirt on the floor and slid into it. It was huge on him, but he was only going down to get himself a glass of water… and maybe fall asleep on the giant couch afterwards.

The dogs looked up from their beds as he walked by on his way to the kitchen, then laid their heads back down. Louis helped himself to both a glass of water and a snoop at the magnets, photos, notes that covered their refrigerator. It was just another reminder of their history, their life, together. Louis plucked a half-hidden photograph to take a closer look. Nick and Elgar were standing balanced on the edge of a boat at sunset. Their torsos were angled toward each other and they were kissing. They looked _so young_. Louis wondered how long ago and where in the world they had been. He put it back, right in the front. 

He startled when he turned around to find Elgar leaning against the doorway, arms crossed against his chest. He was in nothing but tight briefs, and Louis drank in the sight of his broad chest.

“Thought you’d ran out again,” Elgar rasped. 

Louis shook his head. “Couldn’t sleep. But I’m staying, this time.”

“Good,” Elgar said. ”You know, you look really fucking good in my clothes.”

Louis looked down at his bare legs and the wrinkled, oversized, white dress shirt. His body heated under Elgar’s gaze. “Yeah?”

Elgar nodded. “Really fucking good.” Louis gasped as Elgar took a few steps toward him, gently took the glass from his hand, and set it on the counter. “You done?” Elgar’s eyes were dark, intense in the way they were staring at him and Louis’ breath caught in his throat. 

Louis wanted to ask if he was okay. If Nick was okay. If they were okay. Instead he bit his tongue and tried to get his heartbeat to slow. Elgar stepped closer.

Louis couldn’t wait a second longer. He stepped into Elgar’s space and tilted his chin up. Elgar met him, ducking his head down, and wrapping an arm around his waist. Louis felt caged in, in the very best way. Like everything was going to be taken care of. Elgar tilted his head, and brushed their lips together, a gentle caress. Louis tugged him closer, felt his back muscles flex, and parted his mouth to allow Elgar entrance. He still tasted of sleep, but the kiss was rough, overpowering, and Louis went a little weak at how desired he felt. Elgar was already hard against him, rolling his hips as if he could get any closer if he dug in hard enough.

Louis moaned as Elgar moved, pecking the side of his mouth then across his jawline and down his throat. Elgar’s hands were soft as they lifted the hem of his shirt and brought his fingers up to flick and tease Louis’ nipples. Louis couldn’t help the high-pitched whines that were falling from his mouth. As they kissed, Elgar walked him backwards until he hit the wall.

Then, in one sudden motion, Elgar dropped to his knees, hard enough that it must’ve hurt. “You okay?” Louis asked, his voice thick.

Elgar nodded against his thigh. “Never better.” He lifted the fabric at the very bottom, and nudged his nose into Louis’ pubic hair. “This okay?” he asked. 

“Fuck, yeah.” Louis sucked in a surprised breath as Elgar took one of his balls into his mouth. “If it’s okay with…” _Nick._

_What the hell are you two doing?_

“Yeah, ‘course.” Elgar licked up to the tip of Louis’ cock, then mouthed at his cockhead. 

“Feels so good,” Louis whined. He had gone from soft to head-spinningly hard so quickly he was afraid he was going to come before the blow job even started.

Elgar’s only response was to take him fully into his mouth. Elgar grabbed the backs of Louis’ thighs and Louis put one hand on Elgar’s jaw while the reaching the other out to help him balance, his nails scrabbling for purchase on the flat surface of the wall. 

Louis’ orgasm snowballed quickly, the pressure growing as his balls clenched tight. He touched Elgar’s lower lips, where he was tight around Louis, and tried to stave off his release. Louis was sure he was going to have bruises from how hard Elgar was holding his legs and his hips stuttered with the thought. 

“El— Elg— I’m— fuck—” Louis couldn’t hold it any longer and Elgar didn’t appear to have any desire to pull away. 

“Found you,” Nick said. 

Louis’ head snapped up as his orgasm rocked through him. He curved around Elgar, latching onto the meat of his shoulder. Louis breathed out harshly as Elgar sucked and laved him through the aftershocks, until he finally popped off and collapsed back to his heels, resting his head on Louis’ hip. 

Nick had a fire in his eyes, looking back and forth between the two of them against the wall. 

“Am I interrupting?” Nick asked. 

Louis shook his head and waited for Elgar to say something, to invite Nick over to join them. Elgar stayed right where he was, forehead pressed to the jut of Louis’ hip.

“Looks like I came right on time,” Nick said. There was a hardness to his voice that Louis didn’t understand. He swaggered over and stood behind Elgar. Louis was still catching his breath when Nick leaned in slowly and gave him a soft, deep kiss. 

“Morning, darling,” he whispered, looking into Louis’ eyes and giving him a delicate smile. 

Louis felt his cheeks warm. He was pretty sure no one had ever called him _darling_ before. 

“It’s still the middle of the night,” Louis said.

“Not for me, unfortunately.” Nick looked down to where Elgar was still silently kneeling in front of Louis. Nick placed a hand on Elgar’s head and tilted it back. His lips were still red and shiny, and his cock was still thick and hard, jutting against his briefs. Nick placed his thumb along Elgar’s jaw. Louis’ couldn’t decipher the looks on their faces, their silent conversation.

“My turn,” Nick finally stated. “Want to fuck your mouth.”

He stepped around Elgar and Louis circled in the other direction until he and Nick had switched spaces. 

With his lips drawn into a thin line, Nick stared down at Elgar. “Open up.”

After a tense moment, Elgar’s jaw dropped open. Nick dragged his thumb across Elgar’s cheekbone and down to his chin while Elgar waited. Finally, Nick gave himself a quick wank then slid his dick in.

Louis winced as Nick thrust into Elgar’s mouth, hard enough to make Elgar’s eyes water. Elgar held Nick’s gaze regardless, letting Nick keep his head still as he fucked into it again and again. Elgar put a hand out to steady himself against the refrigerator, the other slipping into his own pants. Elgar winced at a particularly hard thrust. 

“Oi!” Louis growled. 

“He’s fine,” Nick said coldly, tilting Elgar’s head up to meet his gaze again. Elgar’s eyes were wet and pink but still unwavering. His hand was still moving in his briefs. “Aren’t you?”

Elgar bobbed his head up and down and dismissed Louis’ concern with a wave of his hand, his eyes fixed on Nick. 

“Right.” Louis turned and hurried back upstairs. Whatever this was, this chess game, Louis had no desire to be a pawn. He pulled Elgar’s shirt over his head and left it in a rumpled pile on the floor with the duvet. He picked up his own clothes from where they had been flung around the room the night before, as his mind ricocheted around what happened in the past few hours. He stole a mouthful of mouthwash in lieu of cleaning his teeth and went back to the kitchen fully dressed.

The dogs were in the garden with Nick, and Louis found Elgar sitting on the floor, his back to the wall, next to a puddle of come. His head leaned back against the kitchen cupboard. 

Louis cleared his throat. “I’m gonna get going. Tell Nick I said ‘bye’, yeah?”

Elgar looked up and his eyes darted around Louis’ face. “You don’t have to go. We could go back to bed for a few hours.”

Whatever he was looking for, he must’ve found because he looked resigned even before Louis turned him down. “K. I’ll let him know.”

Louis wanted to go over and help him up, pull him into a tight hug and assure him everything was going to be okay. Instead, he went home.

  


***

  


Elgar knew they had to talk about what happened. He knew it had to happen sooner rather than later. He knew what the outcome of the talk was going to be, and for that reason he still wasn’t ready. After wiping up the come from the floor and popping more than recommended dosage of paracetamol for his aching jaw, he climbed back into bed and pulled the duvet over his head. From under the cover of darkness, he checked his schedule, and then texted Nathan to let him know he was taking a sick day.

He pissed the day away, fretting and pacing, and talking to himself, practicing what he was going to say to Nick. 

Elgar had worked himself into a right state and blurted out, “This isn’t working,” the moment Nick walked through the door.

Nick paused. “Can I at least take off my shoes before we have this conversation?”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

“You’ve got to stand there and watch me?” Nick asked after Elgar hadn’t moved.

“I’ll be in the living room.”

“I’ll make us a tea and meet you there.”

Elgar paced the living room, listening to Nick’s quiet movements as he prepared their tea.

Nick wouldn’t meet his eye when he finally showed his face.

With a shaky hand, Nick brought in a cuppa for Elgar and passed it over. Nick combed his fingers through his quiff nervously. 

“Well?” he finally asked. 

“It’s not working,” Elgar repeated. 

“As you’ve said.” Nick looked down at the rip in his jeans and dug his finger into the hole. “But since you’re not getting into specifics…”

“This thing with Louis.” Elgar paused. The knot in his stomach gnashed down tight. 

“What about it?”

Nick was well-practiced in pretending he didn’t care: flippant remarks and cheeky giggle went a long way in assuaging stressful situations for him. Other interviewers, friends, the general public, they all took him at his word. Elgar knew better. He hated when Nick played dumb with him.

“Why don’t you tell me?” Elgar wanted Nick to say it.

Nick held his eye from across the room. Elgar refused to blink first.

With a sigh, Nick slumped back into his chair. “I’m bored of these conversations. How many times are we going to say that it’s just fun? What do I have to do to prove to you that it doesn’t mean anything?”

“Bullshit. You don’t have to tell me anything. But after last night—this morning!—if you’re not having a serious talk with yourself, then I’m not sure I know who you are.”

Nick shot back up, straight-backed and fingers pointing. “Stop acting all high and mighty. If you think this thing with me and him is real and you haven’t stopped to consider—”

“I have! That’s my point. It’s not just sex for me. He’s… different. This time it’s different. And I can’t do this anymore. I can’t… These circles are driving me insane.”

“EJ—”

“It’s all I can think about.”

“Oh.” Nick looked like he’d been slapped. He sunk back into the chair again. “Alright then. I guess that answers that.”

“Fucking talk to me. What is going on in that your head of yours? I don’t have any bloody answers.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“All I want is the truth, Nick. We can’t fix this unless I know where you are. I can guess. I’ve seen your face when you look at him.” 

He used to look at Elgar the same way.

Nick rolled his eyes. “Like you’re one to talk.”

“That’s literally my point.”

“Fine!” Nick threw his arms out, his fingers splayed. “It’s not just sex. I like him. He’s… I don’t know… glittery.”

Elgar snorted. “He’d fucking hate that.”

Huffing out a wistful laugh, Nick said, “I know.” 

Hearing that Nick felt that way didn’t make Elgar feel any better. The confirmation settled in his gut. “Now what?”

Nick shook his head. They both lifted their mugs, took their time drinking the tea. Stinky trotted over to Elgar and head-butted his calf. 

“Need to go out?” he asked in his high-pitched puppy and baby voice. 

Elgar led them to the garden and sent up a silent prayer of thanks that he had left the pack and lighter outside earlier. He made his way through two cigarettes as he watched the dogs play. He wasn’t ready to give his relationship up without a fight.

“Come on, pups, back inside.” He closed the door behind them and found Nick hadn’t moved from his spot. 

Elgar sat on the chair’s arm. Nick wrapped an arm around his waist and lifted his shirt a sliver to press his face against Elgar’s flank. Elgar bent over and kissed the top of Nick’s head. 

“We have to stop it,” Elgar said against his soft hair and the scent of his new pomade. “Give him up. This hasn’t been healthy.”

Nick tilted his head back. “You’d pick me over him?”

“Is that even a question?” Elgar asked. “I’ve told you that. Of course.” 

There was a hell of a lot he’d give up for Louis, but Nick couldn’t be a casualty.

“You know I hate that you’re right,” Nick grumbled.

“Am I? Right?” Elgar asked.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Nick said. 

“I’m right here.”

Nick squeezed a little tighter and they watched as the dogs tugged on their rope toy. The feeling in the pit of Elgar’s stomach didn’t feel any better and he felt like he was going to cry. Which was ridiculous. He had everything he needed right here. Hot tears gathered and he blinked them away.

“Gonna get another cuppa,” he said, standing and picking up both of their mugs.

  


***

  


“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Louis said, mostly to himself. 

“Lou, put your phone away,” Perrie hissed at him. “Boss man’ll be back any moment and you can’t get caught with it out again. You’ll be sacked, then I’ll be sad and overworked here without you. And I need this job.”

With a huff, Louis put it back in his pocket, where it consumed all of his thoughts. Luckily a customer walked into the chippy with a standard order, and his mind was occupied for a handful of minutes as he got the order together. 

“Hey, Perrie?” Louis said, as soon as the customer had drowned his chips in vinegar and walked out the door. “Let’s say you were seeing this guy—”

“Leigh-Anne wouldn’t like that very much.”

“Fine. Fine. Yes. Point taken. Hypothetically, let’s say Leigh-Anne sent you a text that said ‘we,’ uh, she ‘needed to take a break.’ That’s a break-up text, right?”

“Oh, babe.” Perrie wrapped him up in a tight hug. “At least she didn’t ghost you.”

“So, I’m not being all doom and gloom for nothing? It is what I think it is?”

“Yeah, that’s not a great one to get. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if it was a ‘need a break for a week whilst I go to Antarctica. Text ya when I get back.’ but yeah, otherwise…” She shook her head. 

“Right. Fuck. I thought this one was going alright, you know? Not like _perfect…_ but… it was something.”

Perrie gave him a calculating look. “Didn’t even know you were seeing anyone. You never mentioned.”

Louis snorted. “Guess it doesn’t much matter now.”

“Babes—”

But Louis was saved by the bell above the door, as the lunch rush started. She gave him a sad smile as he clocked out for the day, but he didn’t have to have a deep heart-to-heart. 

  
  


For the next few days he pretended that everything was fine. Uni, work, skateboarding with friends; it was all he needed. He thought he did an okay job of avoiding the questions about his new-found free time deftly, aside from a few cutting looks from Zayn, but the lads were as clueless as ever. 

He couldn’t avoid his mum forever though. The moment the FaceTime connected, she knew something was wrong. 

He half-heartedly tried to brush it off, but he knew he was going to give in eventually, either to her or to the handful of follow up texts Nick and Elgar had sent. He preferred to give in to his mum’s pestering. 

It didn’t take long to explain what had happened; it wasn’t a drawn out situation. A quick stab to the center of his heart.

“Oh, Boo Bear,” she cooed. 

“Mum—”

“I’m allowed to mother you when you’re hurting,” she said. 

Louis let himself be mothered. 

“I don’t want to say I told you so, and I’m not blaming you for this mess, but Lou, you had to have known this was the way it was going to end. They’re in a long-term relationship. With each other. It rarely ends well for the side piece.”

“That’s not really… Yeah, I know.”

“And I know that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt less,” she added. “Have the lads been keeping you up to your eyeballs in tea?”

“Haven’t told them,” he muttered.

“You haven’t… Lou. You can’t carry this all around yourself. Who have you been venting to? Complaining how all men suck? Taken you out to pull to get them out of your system.”

“Gross, mum.” He rolled his eyes. “I think I kind of thought if I just ignored it, then it wouldn’t be real.”

She tilted her head, looking at him appraisingly. “And how’s that working?”

“As well as to be expected.” He shrugged. “But it’s helped me not answer their other texts. And I think Zayn suspects. He’s too smart for his own good. And he caught me coming out of the bathroom after a cleansing shower cry.”

“Want me to drive down there and punch them in the face for you?”

“Yes,” Louis groaned.

“Or send some brutal tweets?”

“Definitely that. Nick would _hate_ it.”

“Consider it done,” she laughed.

Louis tried to smile, but he could see in the little video of himself staring back the grimace that came out. 

“So, other texts, huh?” his mum prompted. 

“Yep.” He flopped on his side, diagonal across the bed. “Seeing if I’m okay, or whatever.”

“Did you answer the first one? The break-up one?”

“No. What the fuck would I say? ‘Cool. Thanks. Have a good life.’ ‘Sod off you cunts?’ Nothing in between sounded right either.”

“I think…” she said slowly, “asking for a reason is perfectly acceptable, if you need one. You said they were nice boys—”

“They’re wankers.”

“Of course they are, Boo Bear, but maybe—”

“If they’re fobbing me off then they’re not interested. End of. Whatever the reason—a terrible shag, too much drama before their fucking wedding, a new shiny thing—whatever it is, doesn’t change that they don’t want me. So, honestly, I’d rather they just fuck off and let me move on.”

His mum gave him a sad sort of pitying look that he hated and that he had been trying to avoid.

Finally she said, “You could tell them that, if that’s what you really wanted.”

Fucking mums and their insightfulness.

He didn’t respond to that either. “Hey, mum, I think I hear Zayn calling me.”

“No need to lie, dear.” She shook her head at him. “You’re awful at it. Why don’t you come home one weekend? The girls miss you.”

“Just the girls?”

“No, but you know how much I miss you, always.”

“I would but the footie league is starting. Matches start this weekend.”

“Alright, I’ll let them know to expect mood shifts depending on if you win or lose.”

“I’m not that bad.”

“You are and you know it, my competitive one.”

He snorted out a laugh. “Suppose you’re right.”

“Spot on. Okay, go see what Zayn wants. We’ll talk soon.”

“Ha. Ha. Very funny mum. Give the girls kisses.”

“Only if you promise to take care of yourself. And tell Zayn already. He’s probably going mad with worry.”

“Deal. I promise I’ll tell him when he gets home tonight.” He signed off with kisses, then wrapped himself in his duvet and pretended it wasn’t the middle of the afternoon and that he wouldn’t rather be wrapped up in their duvet. 

  


***

  


They tried. And it was mostly working, Nick thought. He still had to make a conscious effort not to text Louis random memes and emojis or forward the joke of the day. For some stupid reason that he couldn’t understand, he missed hearing about Louis’ classes and the silly arguments he got in with his roommates, and he _really_ missed how easy it always was for him to cheer Nick up just by seeing his name pop up on his phone. 

He was pretty sure Elgar felt the same way. 

“It’ll get easier,” Elgar had said one morning as he got dressed for his run, apropos of nothing.

“’Course,” Nick agreed. It had to get easier. 

The problem was, it wasn’t actually getting easier. So Nick came up with a plan. He wined and dined Elgar with a nice date, and flowers then Elgar returned the favor.

They were sat in the garden, passing the last cigarette of the night between them when Elgar slowly dragged his eyes up Nick’s body. Nick fluttered his eyelashes.

“Wanna take this upstairs?” Nick asked.

“Yeah?” Elgar sounded surprised. He cleared his throat and stubbed out the cigarette. “Let’s go.”

Nick laughed as Elgar chased him up the stairs. They stripped quickly and tumbled into bed. “What do you want?” Elgar asked.

“Your fingers,” Nick said, laying himself out across the duvet. He was feeling lazy and didn’t want to have to work for it.

“Mmm. ’Course you do.” 

Elgar kissed his way up Nick’s thin legs, nuzzling into his inner thighs. He was so ticklish there and reflexively clamped his legs around Elgar’s head.

Elgar reached over for the lube and slicked up his fingers. 

He started off teasing Nick, circling, gentle swipes, just the very tip of his finger, while he sucked bruises onto Nick’s legs and worked himself against the sheets.

Elgar started kissing Nick in earnest. As he pumped his fingers in and out, Nick moaned and rocked his head back and forth. It felt so fucking good and had been so fucking long and he had nearly forgotten how fucking talented Elgar was with his fingers. Nick kept getting closer to his orgasm, then breathlessly saying, “Wait! Wait!” He wanted to prolong the sensation for as long as possible. Finally, he let himself be overcome, rutting against Elgar’s abs.

Elgar kissed him down from his high, and he was wrung out and too exhausted to do more than whisper dirty talk in Elgar’s ear as he wanked against Nick’s thigh.

Once Elgar was done, Nick rubbed the mess into his leg as Elgar caught his breath next to him. They were quiet for a few minutes, just touching and laying next to each other.

“We’re still good together, right?” Nick asked, rubbing his feet against Elgar’s.

Elgar kissed him then hummed in agreeance. “We are good. We’ll get… It’ll get easier. Back to how it was.”

Nick swallowed thickly. They had done a bang up job of not talking about Louis since they called it off, but maybe they needed to. 

“You miss him as much as I do?”

After sighing, Elgar was quiet. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” he said eventually. 

“The truth?”

“I miss him a lot. As much as I say it, it’s not getting easier. It’s like… It’s almost like this was a breakup. Except you’re still here and I’m still heartbroken and I don’t feel like I get to whinge on about it.”

“Same.”

Elgar snorted. “It sucks.” 

“I have an idea,” Nick said. It had potential to be the worst idea of all time, but he wanted to put it out there. 

“You can’t suck me. You’ve worn me out.”

Nick lightly smacked him in the chest with the back of his hand. “I’m serious.”

“Alright, let’s hear it.”

“What if we all date?”

“What?”

“Instead of our normal thing, playing with friends, what if we ask Louis to be our third, like, all the time. Like properly dating.” 

“You hate commitment,” Elgar said flatly.

“I do. Yet here we are.” Nick tweaked his nipple. “Might be worth a shot. Maybe committing to two people will be easier. Always someone to pay attention to me, then when I’m sick of that, you’ll still have each other.”

Elgar laughed. “Wow. I hate you.”

“I know, it’s a wonder you’ve stuck around this long.” Nick smiled.

“I do love you,” Elgar said.

“And I love you,” Nick replied. “I don’t think this is going to change that part. I know it won’t. Even if it’ll change some other things.”

Elgar turned to his side to look Nick in the eye. “You’re actually serious about this.”

Nick resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I am. Unless you think it’s a rubbish idea in which case I’m 100% joking.”

“I thought the whole point of getting engaged was that we could stop dating,” Elgar said. 

“You can just tell me if it’s a rubbish—”

Elgar rolled on top of Nick and pulled him into a deep kiss. “I don’t think it’s rubbish. I think it could be a right mess, though. You really think this could work?”

Nick shrugged. He had absolutely no idea. But he wanted to try. He wanted them to try, together.


	5. Chapter 5

“Tommo! Tommo! ’M open!” Calvin shouted from across the pitch. 

Louis kicked him the ball and Calvin dribbled for a few steps, trying to avoid the other team’s defenders. Louis booked it down the pitch, attempting to find an open spot in front of the goal.

It was nearing the end of the match and Louis was exhausted. He was looking forward to the post-match pint (or five). At least one of which he wouldn’t be paying for, since they were almost certainly going to win. It was his favourite part of the six-a-side tradition.

“Oi, Oi! Tommo!” a voice from the park yelled. “Olé, Olé, Olé, Olé,” he sang off-key. 

Louis stuck his middle finger up in the general direction where the annoyance had come from, and kept the rest of his focus on the action unfolding in front of him.

Time ran out only a few minutes later. When the ref blew his whistle, Louis and his teammates ran towards each other, jumping on each other’s backs and celebrating as if they’d won the World Cup and not just a weekend rec league match. Niall hoisted Louis up on his back and ran for a few yards before his knee gave out and they tumbled to the ground.

After shaking hands with the other team, they agreed which pub they were heading to, and Louis started the walk over towards the bench to collect his mismatched collection of stuff.

“Is that Nick Grimshaw?” Niall asked.

Louis' whole body stiffened, as he tried not to react. The wanker who had yelled out earlier wasn’t some random wanker, but rather one half of a specific pair of wankers. 

“What?” Zayn looked around wildly.

“There,” Liam said as he pointed toward where Nick and Elgar were sat on a hill overlooking the pitch. They were wearing what were probably stupidly expensive scarves and they each had a takeaway coffee cup and they were likely ruining their designer trousers by sitting on the ground. Elgar smiled and Nick waved his too-long fingers. 

Louis turned away from them and bumped right into Zayn. 

“Oh, fuck this,” Zayn said. Louis grabbed his sleeve as he started to stomp in that direction.

“What the fuck did I miss?” Nazim asked. 

Calvin shrugged. 

“Nothing,” Louis grumbled. “Ignore them.”

Louis took his own advice, stuffing his hoodie and cleats into his bag and shoving his feet in his Vans without so much as a glance in their direction. 

Everyone else was abnormally quiet, all traces of the celebration had turned into total confusion. 

He took a long drink from his water bottle, ignoring the silence.

“Ready to go?” Louis asked, plastering a smile on his face.

“Uh, sure?” Calvin said.

Zayn nodded, hooking his arm around Louis’s shoulder and turning them away. “Think we could all use a drink.”

Louis let himself be led and started to walk away, desperate to get out of there. Everyone else would get there when they got there.

“Wait, Louis!” “Hold up!” Nick and Elgar called after him.

With a sigh, Louis stilled. He gave Zayn a pleading look.

“I’ll be right over there if you need me,” Zayn said. 

Zayn put on his most unimpressed face as the other two approached. Louis kicked at the patch of dirt at his feet. They were lucky he wasn’t a violent person.

“Hey, Lou,” Nick said, a cautious smile on his face.

“You were great out there,” Elgar added. “Great footwork. Killer instep drive.”

Louis hated both of their beautiful faces. 

“Why are you here?” Louis demanded.

Elgar looked over to Nick, then glanced back at Louis’s friends lingering behind them. “Can we talk?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

Nick’s face fell as the uneasy smile slid off his face. Louis took a sip of his water. “You haven’t answered our calls.”

“I am a millennial who prefers to text.”

“Haven’t answered those either,” Elgar very unhelpfully added.

“And yet here you are.”

“We want to apologise,” Elgar said.

“For being cunts? Using me as a pawn. Or for dropping off the face of the Earth? Or for showing up here—stalking me—after your disappearing act?” 

Zayn took a step forward. Elgar and Nick must’ve just noticed the crowd gathering. Louis clenched his fist. 

“Can we go somewhere?” Elgar asked.

“You’ve lost your minds if you think you deserve another second of my time.”

Nick looked taken aback, stepping forwards to murmur, “Please—”

Elgar put his arm out to stop Nick. “You’re absolutely right. But just hear us out. Five minutes. Then if you never want to hear from us again, I swear we’ll leave you alone.”

Against his better judgement, Louis knew he was going to give in. After a long second of making them sweat and wanting to kick himself for being so weak, he said, “Zayn, I’ll meet you guys there.”

“Seriously?” It looked like Zayn wanted to kick him too.

Louis nodded. “Promise.”

“You better.” Zayn turned to the rest of the team. “Come on then, lads.”

“Is that the guy from the skate park?” Niall asked. “I _knew_ it was a weird sex thing.”

“What the fuck?” Calvin muttered, something like realisation dawning on his face. “Wait, is Lou getting it up the arse from Nick Grimshaw?”

Nick and Elgar shared a pair of smiles that didn’t reach their eyes.

Louis flicked Calvin off.

“Shut the fuck up, Cal. You too Nialler,” Zayn said as he smacked him in the shoulder. “Pub. Let’s go.”

Louis led Nick and Elgar over to tree that at least somewhat hid them from the rest of the park.

“I’m listening.”

Elgar glanced at Nick, took a deep breath, and said his piece.

“Are you actually that dense?” Louis snapped, barely keeping his voice down. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You proposition me as friends, I thought things were going fine, until whatever the fuck that was the last time I saw you, then I get a 'we're ending it' text? No explanation. Then you show up here asking _if I want to date you?”_ At least they had the decency to look ashamed. “Do you get off on the power trips? Is that it?”

“No,” Elgar said. “We’ve had some communication issues, but those stemmed from us both wanting more than sex with you—”

“Shhh!” Louis looked around, even though there wasn’t anyone too close by. “Keep your fucking voice down.”

“The point is,” Nick continued, “we both wanted more, but were afraid to say anything and that’s when it got all messed up.”

“Okay…” Louis said, waiting for further clarification.

Elgar said, “We talked. We’re on the same page now. We know what we both want.”

Their hopeful looks were back. 

Louis wasn’t convinced.

“Two things. First of all, what happens next time when you’re afraid to say something?”

“Learned our lesson, didn’t we?” Nick said.

Louis rolled his eyes. “Sure. Whatever. But also, you’ve figured out what you want. Where does what I want fit in?”

“What do you mean?” Elgar asked. “We’re here, aren’t we?”

“Yes, the two of you are here. You came here together. From your house, where you live together because you’ve been together ages and you’re engaged. You talked it out amongst yourselves and came to this mutual decision.” Louis wanted to scream. Instead he seethed at just above a whisper. “You’ve show up as a united front at my footie match and what, expect me to swoon? Do you know how embarrassing this is? My friends don’t know you exist! Well, they do, obviously, since you’re famous, but that you exist in my world. This is all legitimately insane.” 

There was a very real chance he was going to vom on their shoes.

Elgar looked just as confused as Nick. “What? No—”

“No. I’m not done. So now, I’ve got to go back and what? Explain to them that I’m second best, always, in this little threesome? ‘Hey Lads! Guess What! Not only am I gay, I’m so super gay that I need two dicks!’ That’ll go over real well. And what happens when this crashes and burns, as it definitely will? You two get to live on happily ever after while I’m left heartbroken?” He left off the ‘again’ echoing in his head.

Elgar was worrying his lip with his teeth and shaking his head while Nick had combed his fingers through his hair so many times that Louis was worried it was about to start coming out in clumps. Louis watched as they looked at each other, seemingly having a wordless conversation right in front of him. 

“See!”

With a shake of his head, Elgar turned to Louis. “I get why you feel that way, but all I can promise is that we’ll do our best to ensure you don’t feel like you’re not an equal.”

“Don’t you think we’re good all together?” Nick asked. “Like, really good?”

Louis scoffed.

“Well,” Nick said gently. “Except for that last time, which we would like to profusely apologise for.”

Elgar sighed. “Give us one more chance?” he asked. “Please.”

Louis hefted his bag onto his shoulder and shook his head. He walked away before he could look into their eyes because he knew he’d give in. Once he was sure he was out of their eyeline he hastily wiped away the tears brimming in his eyes and started trying to figure out how the hell he was going to avoid having to explain this to the lads.

  


***

  


Louis tried to balance his phone on his knee because his arms were getting tired from holding it up. He was still mostly in the frame, so it was close enough.

“Boo Bear, all I can hear is what you’re not saying.”

Louis cracked his knuckles. His mum was about to lay down the truth and he didn’t want to hear it. “Oh yeah?” he mumbled. “Maybe you could listen to what I _am_ saying.” He gave her his best, ‘so there’ look, completed with tilted head and pursed lips.

From his childhood sofa she said, “Believe me, I’ve been listening.”

“And you wonder where I get my sass from.”

“You’ve been going on and on about these two.”

“I still can’t believe the gall.” His phone fell over when he gesticulated too widely.

“If you didn’t care, it’d be a brief mention during one of our many chats. Instead, you called me up specifically to talk about it.”

“Because they’re cunts!” He put the phone back on his leg and was met with his mother’s glare.

“Language.”

“The babies are asleep.”

“Still. The point I’m trying to make is that it sounds like you’re trying to talk yourself into believing you’ve made the right decision when in reality there’s a good part of you that thinks it’s worth the risk.”

“Goodbye mum.” His stomach growled loudly. She was supposed to be on his side! 

“Lou, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“They could make me fall in love with them and then decide they’re never going to love me and leave me brokenhearted.”

“Lou, darling, you are brokenhearted.”

“I’m not,” he said petutently. 

“You are. And it’s breaking my heart to see you so miserable.”

Louis blinked away some tears and took a moment until he was sure his voice wasn’t going to crack. 

“I’m scared.”

“The best things in life are scary. ”

“This is doubly scary though. Double everything. Double the pain. Double the heartache.” 

Double the dick.

His mum took a long swig of her tea. Then arched an eyebrow.

“You’re the worst. And I hate you.” Louis pouted. “Why’ve you changed your tune?”

“Sounds like they’ve changed theirs, right? Learned their lesson and came back with their tails between their legs?” 

“You think?”

“Seems like they’re serious about you. All of you, not just your arse.” 

“Mum, seriously.”

“Lou, they fucked up. No one is questioning that. But, baby, you’re miserable. Maybe it’s time to try forgiveness, and give them another chance.”

“How do I know—” 

“You don’t. The people you love will disappoint you sometimes, but I don’t want to watch you give up a chance at happiness to what-ifs. The flip side of all that double stuff is double the love. And I know you better than anyone and I know you have enough love in that heart of yours to go around.”

Louis groaned. “Mum, I can’t believe you’re trying to talk me into a relationship with two older men who are in the public eye. Who are you and what have you done with my real mum?”

She laughed, head back, full and strong and wonderful. The all too familiar pang of missing her constricted his ribcage. “The lengths I go to to make you happy.”

His diaphragm constricted again and he knew he was going to cry, again, if he didn’t get off the phone immediately. “Okay mum, I do have to go eat. Talk soon. Love you.”

“Love you too, Boo Bear.” 

Louis rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue before ending the call.

Between the tears and the pressing his face into his pillow and screaming, it had not been a stellar week. He gave another silent scream for good measure before starting the hunt for dinner. After he got out of bed he put on the same pair of dirty sweatpants he had been living in, and opened the door to face his roomates.

Nazim and Zayn were on the sofa, hunched over their laps, shoveling pot noodles into their mouths. 

“So we don’t have any food?” Louis asked. 

“Like you’re going to eat anyway,” Calvin said from the recliner. “You’re going to go mope in the kitchen, opening the cabinets and refrigerator while sighing, and then make tea for all of us.”

“I haven’t been that bad.”

Zayn gave him a sad smile. “You have, mate. It’s fucking depressing.” 

“Whatever. I can’t deal with my mum and you lot too.” Louis sniffed.

Zayn frowned. “What’d your mum say?”

“She told me to give it a try. That I was being a miserable bastard.”

“Give what a try?” Nazim asked with his mouth full.

Louis looked to Zayn for help. 

“You have been a miserable bastard. And they’re not going to care.”

Louis bit the inside of his mouth. His friends might care.

“We all,” he gestured around the room, “just want to see you happy. And they didn’t give up on you when you were ignoring them. Maybe you shouldn’t give up on them when they’re apologising and trying to do right by you.”

Nazim and Calvin were both staring up at him. His roommates had been exceptionally considerate of his grouchiness 

“Fine!” Louis threw up his arms in defeat. “I’m only explaining it once,” he said. “I’ll make a pot of tea if you really care that much.”

His hands shook as he switched the kettle on. He wasn’t sure if he wanted his friends to talk some sense into him, or mock him until he gave up on the silly notion, or for them to agree with his mum. They all felt like equally awful outcomes.

Louis returned with the tea pot. “Milk and sugar are on you, you lazy bastards.”

With grumbles and curses under their breaths they trooped into the kitchen and with a silent whoop of victory, Louis plopped himself on the most comfortable spot on the sofa.

“Oi, you wanker,” Nazim whined when he got back.

Louis smirked. It was a dog eat dog world. 

Once everyone was settled again, Louis launched into what the problem was and then his mum’s suggestion on how to solve it. He kept his tea on the table so they wouldn’t notice the tremble in his hand, as he stuttered and backtracked through the story.

Calvin yawned again. “That’s it? Fuck, dude, I thought it was something serious. Go and get that great dick and tell them if they ever even think of hurting you again, I’m coming after them.” He took his mug and with the blanket still around his shoulders, went back to his room.

“What the fuck?” Louis said to Nazim.

“Nah. I’m with him. Stop being a punk and go get your blokes.”

“Zayn?”

“You know it’s bad when those two agree with your mum.”

“But what about—”

“It’s an excuse.”

“And there’s—”

“Lou. Stop. You’ve been miserable since they ended this thing and now they want to make it real?” Zayn waited for Louis to nod before he continued. “Of course there’s a chance you’re going to get hurt. This whole thing was a fucking disaster from the word go, but you’re in it now. Might as well be happy for as long as you can before it implodes.”

Fuck. Louis swallowed. “What—what if I missed my chance?”

Nazim turned to him, pointed the remote in his direction, and said, “Stop whining. If you’re not out of here in five minutes I’m putting on the History Channel.”

“I hate you. Both of you.”

“You love us. Goodbye.”

Zayn, the traitor, waved his dismissal. 

Louis grabbed his keys and his skateboard and was out the door in four.

  


***

  


The doorbell rang whilst Elgar was up to his elbows rolling meatballs.

“Nick! Can you get that?” he yelled. 

“Sure.” Nick padded past in no particular hurry. “Smells good.”

“Haven’t started cooking them yet, but thanks for the support.”

He rolled out a few more while Nick was at the door, talking to whoever was out there. Two sets of footsteps came back. “You have enough there for one more?”

Elgar looked over and started in surprise of seeing something he’d thought he’d never get to see again: Louis stood in the doorway of his kitchen. After he put the meatball he was working with back in the bowl, he wiped his hands on a dish cloth, then took two careful steps towards Louis. 

“Do I get a hug?” he asked, measuring Louis’ expression. Louis nodded and Elgar closed the gap.

Elgar pulled back and put his forearms on Louis’ shoulders. Louis looked a little worse for the wear: his hair could’ve used a good washing, there were dark bags under his eyes, and his scruff was longer than Elgar had ever seen it. “You’ll stay for dinner? Let us feed you?”

Louis shrugged. “What’re you having?”

Nick laughed. “You’re such a little shit.” 

“Are you back? For good?” Elgar asked. His heart was in his throat, trying not to jump to conclusions and temper his expectations. 

Louis’ eyes bounced around the room. “Maybe? I think we need to… I guess I have questions.”

Elgar swallowed thickly. Of course it wasn’t a sure thing. “Okay. Of course. Let me just… fuck. I have to wash my hands. Nick, get him a drink.”

“Can do.” Nick said. 

“Just water. I’m—I haven’t eaten a lot.”

Nick opened a cupboard next to Elgar. “Whatcha been up to?”

“Moping, mostly, if we’re being honest.”

“Really?” Nick asked, handing Louis a glass of water and leaning against the kitchen counter beside him.

“S’why I’m here now innit?”

Nick shrugged. “Dunno. I’d hoped.”

“How’ve you guys been?”

“Uh, we’ve been better.” Elgar said, as he slid the meatballs in the oven.

Louis fidgeted with his hoodie. He half looked like he was ready to bolt and half like if Elgar wrapped him up in a blanket he’d sleep for days. 

Eventually Louis said, “If we’re going to do this—”

“Do this? Make it official?” Elgar asked.

Louis stared at the floor. “’M probably gonna be a shit boyfriend. I’ve never… It’ll all sort of be new to me.”

Nick took a tentative step closer to Louis. “It’s new to us too. Well not—” He flapped his hand in Elgar’s direction. Elgar pulled a face and did it right back, mocking him. “He’s old hat. But _we_ haven’t ever been serious about someone else.”

“Um… yeah, about that.” Louis looked like he was going to bite through his lip.

Elgar waited for him to continue, but Louis finally just took a deep breath and went back to staring at the spot on the floor. 

“About what?” Elgar asked. 

“I don’t want anyone else. Like, I know you have your, uh, arrangements, with friends. But I don’t really…” He sighed and then gulped in a big breath. “And like, I know it was a thing before I came around, but I just… uh, don’t want there to be anyone else.”

“Okay,” Elgar agreed quickly. That was more than fine with him. It was what he wanted too.

“You don’t want to join in or you don’t want us to do it without you?” Nick asked. “Like, full stop.”

Louis turned to Elgar, like he wasn’t sure what the right answer was and was looking for help.

“You want it to be just the three of us,” Elgar translated. “Exclusive with each other and not bringing others into the bedroom?” 

“Yes.” Louis looked back to Nick. “Exclusive. If that’s alright?”

“Yeah, of course,” Elgar said immediately. 

Nick nodded slowly, and Elgar knew he was digesting the request. Years ago, when they had gotten together Nick confessed how he didn’t think he could ever be truly exclusive. He got bored too quickly. And it was hard for him being surrounded by beautiful men and drinks and drugs and nights that turned into mornings. It was a life of impulse. He never saw himself as the setting down with a white picket fence type. Elgar had heartily agreed, minus the impulsive part, and they had drawn up some rules and it had worked for them. 

“You sure?” Nick asked.

Louis nodded. “I just want you two. I’m not interested in your friends.”

“You haven’t even met our friends,” Nick countered.

Louis shrugged. “Still.”

All of Nick’s history was littered with boys who were out for a spot of fun and ran when things got too serious. Nick had told Elgar that while they were falling asleep one night, a rare confession that slipped out after a long night of edging. Elgar had been spooning him, Nick spoke toward the window, and Elgar kissed the back of his head.

“That’s non-negotiable?” Nick asked. 

Elgar’s heart was dangerously close to cracking. He sent out some telepathic messages to Nick. ‘Say yes. Say yes. Don’t fuck this up now, when we’re so close. Agree with him you fuckwit. Give him everything he wants.’

Louis nodded. “’Fraid so.” He took a long sip of water, then cleared his throat when he was done. “Okay. Right. So I’ll just…” He took a step backwards, toward the hall.

“Okay!” Nick matched his step. “Fine, yes, okay. That’s… yes.”

“You sure?” Louis sounded as skeptical as Elgar felt.

Nick took two more steps towards him. “Yes, honestly. That’s fine with me.”

For the first time that night, Louis smiled. It was a small, tentative, shy thing that felt like it was starting to heal the cracks in Elgar’s chest.

Nick put a hand on Louis’ waist and the other he placed on the side of Louis’ neck. “Can I?” he asked as he moved closer. 

Louis licked his lips and nodded, and Elgar watched as Nick dipped in and kissed him. Louis stuck out a hand in Elgar’s direction and coaxed him over. As Elgar finally got his mouth on Louis again, kissing the jut of his collarbone, Louis whimpered. 

“Mmm, my turn,” Elgar said. 

He was working on his patience, but at the moment, he _wanted_.

Nick gave Louis one last peck, then gave Elgar a quick kiss, before moving to stand behind Elgar, his arms locked around Elgar’s waist, as Elgar got to kiss Louis again, finally.

Nick was getting handsy, his fingers roaming across Elgar’s chest, occasionally flicking and pinching at his nipples, and Elgar was thickening up. Sandwiched between his two favourites, there was no way he was going to be able to will it to away, so he regretfully, slowly, pulled away. 

“Dinner,” he murmured against Louis’ lips. “I should finish making dinner,” he grumbled. “We can finish this later but the meatballs are gonna burn.”

Dinner was a more relaxed affair with Louis making fun of their posh chickpea noodle faux spaghetti, Nick getting sauce on his chin and not knowing why the other two were laughing, and Elgar finally letting himself hope that they could actually make this work.

After dinner they moved to the garden, where Nick watched Louis and Elgar have a kickabout while the dogs ran around their ankles.

Nick stubbed out his cigarette. “I have another question,” he said.

“Okay?” Elgar smirked back at Nick.

“Are we allowed to hook up just two of us, like if the third isn’t around or isn’t feeling it? Or do we all have to be there?” He tapped his pack against the table.

Louis shrugged. 

“No, no,” Elgar said. He didn’t want any of that. “Tell us your thoughts.”

“I mean…” Louis stopped the ball, resting his foot on top of it. “You live together. Seems unfair to say you can only get off if I’m here too. Doesn’t seem practical.”

Nick nodded and added, “Also our schedules are all over the place. For all of us to be in the same place at the time…” 

Elgar stole the ball then he said slowly, “Okay, so we all agree. But, I think we should try as much as we can to keep it all equal. Like, we’re all equally important in the relationship.” 

Louis got possession again, only because Elgar had been distracted.

Elgar watched Nick watching Louis. Nick watched until Louis ducked his head and dribbled the ball halfway down the garden. 

“So,” Elgar continued, “if someone is starting to feel left out, they need to speak up.”

Louis eyes rolled with his entire head. “Got it. Loud and clear.”

Elgar ran up to him, pretending to be interested in stealing the ball, but then tackled Louis instead, running into his back and wrapping his arms around him. “So glad you’re here.”

Louis tilted his head so Elgar had access to the slope of Louis’ neck. He gave a kiss, a lick, and a gentle suck before sucking harder, with the intent to mark him up.

“Glad I’m here too.”

  


***

  


Nick’s throat was tight as he walked each room and found them empty. They had planned on surprising his mum for lunch, but the joke was on them because no one was home. Trying to keep all of the worst thoughts at bay, with shaking hands, Nick flipped through her diary. He slowly exhaled, when he saw she was supposed to be at a bridge game at Mary’s. 

The worst of the panic was over, but the sadness that had settled in his bones remained. The television was off, instead of providing sports commentary loud enough to hear from the next room. There were nothing but his mum’s jackets and scarves on the coat hook next to the door. The messy pile of mail and documents and newspapers folded to the crossword on the table next to his father’s chair was gone. He blinked away the tears.

“Hey,” Elgar said, as he gently rubbed Nick’s back. “Let’s give Lou a call.”

Nick nodded.

Louis’ breathless, “Hey!” when he answered had Nick smiling for the first time since he had gotten there. 

Nick ragged on Elgar for his rubbish driving during their unremarkable drive up north and they listened to Louis’ self-deprecating story of embarrassing himself in front of the guest lecturer he had been so excited to meet. Louis’ laughter was a balm for the soul. 

Nick was glad he wasn’t here to see him like this, falling apart for the hundredth time over something that should probably have gotten a little less hard by now. He wondered if Liv and Andy were still struck down by grief when they came home, or if it was the new normal for them, since they were over so often.

Louis was explaining his latest prank on Nazim when Nick heard the keys in the lock. His breath hitched when he saw his mum walk through the door. Elgar rushed Louis off the phone, promising they’d call back later.

“My boys!” she said. “I wasn’t expecting you until tea. What are you doing, scaring an old woman like that?”

Elgar took the shopping bags from her and pulled her in for a tight hug. “Missed you,” he said.

Nick got his hug next, tears already welling. A weepy “Mum” was all he was able to get out.

They both pulled away with teary faces. “Stop it,” she said. “You two help me put away the shopping and I’ll start tea.”

With Eileen filling up the space, telling stories about the grandkids and ‘The Old Lady Drama’ surrounding her friends while commanding the kitchen activities, it felt like home again. 

While she was in the middle of telling them about a scandal involving the owners of the local chippy, Nick strode over to Elgar. 

“Thanks,” Nick whispered in his ear before kissing him on the cheek. 

Elgar turned and smiled, giving him a peck. “Anytime.”

Eileen stopped her story. “You look happy,” she said. 

“Mum, we’re always happy. What’s there to be unhappy about?” 

The obvious answer, the singular void in the house, went unsaid. 

She tutted. “You sound just like your da.”

Nick’s throat went tight again. He had considered he and his father near opposites all of his life and hearing that something of his father was living on in him had him choked up. 

“Yeah?”

“Come on, love. What’s got you two all soft?”

Elgar squeezed his shoulder. He looked like he was trying not to laugh. Nick bit his lip. “Dunno, mum. But we are very happy.”

“Did you settle on a date then? Mary and Margaret have been asking.”

The smile slid off of Elgar’s face and he said, “Not yet.”

She patted Elgar’s hand. “That’s all right dear. There’s no rush.”

“We’ve just been busy, mum.”

“Of course, you two have a lot going on.”

Elgar gave him a small smile. They had agreed before the trip not to say anything, that it was still too delicate without other people’s opinions, but the joy was a hard secret to keep from his mum.

  
  


Dinner was delicious. He hadn’t realised just how much he missed his mum’s cooking until he was shoveling it in his mouth and she and Elgar were concerned he was going to choke. 

Despite her protests, Nick insisted on helping her with the washing. Handing him a plate to dry she said, "It's nice to see you two so happy again. Things looked a bit tense the last time you were up here."

"We were just exhausted and overworked," Nick said, and it wasn't entirely a lie. 

They _had_ been exhausted and overworked, and irritable and snappy at each other. He didn’t want to think too closely about what had changed since, or how Louis coming between them had somehow made them fit even better against each other than they ever had before, how Louis had somehow helped him fall for Elgar all over again, how all of it made confusing, perfect sense.

"We sorted some things out, it's better now."

"You should see the way he looks at you, love. He's a good one."

Nick swallowed and didn’t say, _I wish you could see how Louis looks at me, and how the two of them look at each other, and how it all makes me feel happy and terrified and confused all at the same time. I wish dad was here to see it all. It’s not fair that Louis will never get to meet him._

After kissing Eileen good night and retiring upstairs, they were able to vocalise what Nick knew they had both been feeling all day. He had snuck off enough times to pull out his phone in private. And despite Elgar’s attempts at being sly, he had caught Elgar typing out a message and sliding his phone back in his pocket. The same soft smile Eileen had called out earlier had been on his face. 

“I miss him,” Nick said as he got undressed. “It was the right decision for him not to come, but still…”

Elgar gave a soft smile, holding the covers up for him. “You think we can call without your mum hearing?”

Nick laid down beside him. “Think we’ll be alright. She fell asleep in front of the TV, and you know how loud she keeps it.” He shrugged and tilted his head up for a kiss. “But yeah, should probably try and keep it quiet.”

Elgar delivered, kissing him gently until the tension had drained from his muscles. “You ready?” Elgar asked. 

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Elgar picked up his phone and pointed it at Nick, taking a picture before Nick could protest. “I look awful. Delete it.”

“Nah, you’re too cute to delete,” he said as he called Louis. 

Nick rolled his eyes even as his cheeks flushed. 

“Hey, baby,” Elgar said softly as soon as Louis’ face filled the screen.

Nick melted into the bed, snuggled against Elgar, finally content that they were all together again. Louis was in bed too, shirtless, surrounded by his books. “Revising?”

“I was,” he said, as he closed the book closest to him and added it to the pile. “But I can’t be blamed if some bad influences make me lose interest.”

“It’s a Friday night. You should be out with friends.”

“It’s a Friday night and my brand new boyfriends abandoned me,” Louis gave them an exaggerated pout. “The lads are all out on the pull but actually I’ve been a bit distracted so I thought I’d get some work done.”

Nick shook his head and gave a good-natured eye roll that had Louis giggling. “We didn’t abandon—”

“How will we ever make it up to you?” Elgar asked.

Louis pretended to think, rolling his eyes to the ceiling and tapping his finger on his chin. “The only thing that could possibly make it better…” he said slowly, “is if you two let me watch you get each other off.”

“You strike a hard bargain,” Elgar said. “But we have to be quiet.”

“Stealth mode. I like it,” Louis said.

Elgar turned and gave Nick the softest look and Nick melted a little under his gaze. Nick brought their lips together, then swiped his tongue into Elgar’s mouth. Toothpaste and love. 

Elgar was kissing back just as fiercely as Nick was giving it to him, until Nick heard a squawk of indignation from Louis. “You dropped the phone!” 

Nick laughed as he picked up the phone. He brought a finger to lips and shushed Louis.

They spent a few minutes building a platform on the nightstand and finding something to the lean the phone against until Louis was satisfied he’d be able to watch all the action.

“Can’t believe I have pornstar boyfriends,” he said quietly once they got back to business. “Nick, stop pulling the sheets over yourself.”

A small bolt of embarrassment thrilled through Nick: lights on, no sheets, Louis seeing everything. But he swallowed it down and got out of his own head as Elgar looked up at him and ran his hands over his body. Louis groaned.

“You want to fuck me?” Elgar asked against his mouth. “Make me feel so good?”

“Yeah. Yeah, fuck, I do.” Nick leaned forward to mouth at Elgar’s chest. He licked one nipple while he pinched the other. “I didn’t bring condoms though. Gonna be messy.”

“Fuck me anyway.” Elgar grunted as Nick took the nub between his teeth.

Louis let out a whimper. 

“You okay, Lou?” Nick asked.

“So good.” He already sounded breathless. “You two are so fucking fit. Are you going to? You going to fuck him bare?”

“Want me to?” Nick asked. “Tell us what you want.”

“Yeah,” Louis said. “Please. Fuck him. I want to see.”

Elgar groaned as Nick rolled his hips against his. Nick loved when Elgar let go, dropping his head back, mouth wide open, surrendering to his more primal instincts. “Please.” Elgar hardly ever begged. “Please, babe. Please, show Lou how good you fuck me.”

Nick moved lower down Elgar’s body. He took Elgar’s cock into his mouth, giving it a few luxurious sucks before he moved lower still. He hitched Elgar’s far leg up to his torso. “Hold this,” Nick instructed Elgar.

Then Nick heard Louis swear as he stuck out his tongue and settled in to eat Elgar out. 

“EJ,” Louis prompted. “What’s it feel like?”

“N’ugh,” was all Elgar could get out before it was muffled groans and the occasional high-pitched whine.

Nick kept licking and sucking until his jaw ached, spurred on by Louis’ encouraging comments and Elgar’s sounds.

“I’m gonna come soon,” Louis said. “But I want to… fuck… can you put it in him?”

Elgar let out another loud whine. Nick popped his head up to see Elgar with his arm across his face as he nodded yes to Louis’ question. “Yeah,” Nick said. “Can do.” He reached over to the duffle on the floor and pulled the lube out. After he slicked himself up, he pressed forward, into Elgar.

Louis sucked in a breath and Nick held still until Louis’ quiet “fuck fuck fuck don’t want to come yet” petered down to harsh breathing.

Nick rubbed at Elgar’s hip, circling the same spot until Elgar removed the arm from across his mouth and reached down to fist at his own cock. “Move baby. Come on. I’m ready. I’m—”

The words died on his lips as Nick pulled back and snapped back into Elgar. 

Louis came with a “shit, fuck, I can’t—I’m coming” and his phone clattering out of his hand and onto the floor.

Nick didn’t slow down. He kept plowing into Elgar as Elgar pulled at himself. “Come on. Come on,” he kept telling Nick. “Feels so good, baby. Love how you fuck me.”

Nick fucked him until his thighs and arse burned with the effort. Until Elgar clamped down around him and with a bitten off cry that had Nick slapping a hand over his mouth, came hard over his own chest.

It didn’t take many more thrusts until Nick was coming hard too, pushing himself further into Elgar and holding on as the release washed over him.

Nick collapsed onto Elgar as he caught his breath. 

“Think you’ve ruined porn for me,” Louis said. Nick giggled.

Elgar grabbed the phone and brought it closer, so Louis could see a close up of their faces. Nick touched the screen, as if he could feel Louis’ flushed skin.

“Don’t want you to hang up yet,” Nick said. “I’ve missed you like crazy.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Louis said. “Want to fall asleep next to you.”

Nick turned off the light, as did Louis, and they all laid in the dark talking until they drifted off to sleep.

  


***

  


Louis was laid across their sofa, petting Stinky who was curled up at his stomach. There was an awful action movie on, and his eyes kept falling closed as he drifted in and out of a shallow nap. Elgar and Nick had the most comfortable sofa in existence and Louis counted himself lucky to have access to it for naps whenever he pleased.

Somewhere in the recesses of his mind he heard Nick call his name, and he struggled to return the call, letting out a pitiful moan as he tried to return to full consciousness.

“Lou?” Elgar’s footsteps got closer and Louis sat up with a great yawn he didn’t even attempt to cover.

Stretching his arms above his head, Louis turned as Elgar leaned against the doorway. “Nice hair,” Elgar said with a smile.

“Fuck off,” Louis said, his voice thick. He combed his fingers through his fringe and tried to pat down what was surely some epic bedhead.

“Good nap?” Elgar asked. “Sorry, we didn’t realise you were sleeping.”

Louis stood and stepped over Pig who lifted his head and placed it right back down. “Great nap,” Louis said. “And your punishment for waking me up is a kiss.”

Elgar quirked an eyebrow. “Not much of a punishment.”

“Before I clean my teeth.”

Elgar loosely tangled their fingers together. “Still not much of a punishment.”

Louis went easily into Elgar’s arms and tilted his head back for a peck.

Elgar met him, pressing their lips together a few times, before parting his lips and with a flick of his tongue asked Louis to do the same. Louis was hopeless to resist. He was still sleepy and felt himself melting against Elgar’s broad chest, trusting him to hold him up.

Elgar pulled away, and Louis blinked his eyes open to find Elgar looking at him with such softness. “You need another one?” he asked.

Louis shook his head and hugged Elgar tightly. There was a truth threatening to make its way from Louis’ heart to Louis’ mouth and he didn’t trust himself not to blurt it out, so he bit the tip of his tongue and gave Elgar another squeeze.

“What’d you want?” Louis asked.

“Hm?”

“What was more important than my nap?”

“Right!” Elgar stepped away, and clasped their hands together before leading Louis down the hallway. “We have something for you. A surprise.”

“What is it?” Louis asked dumbly.

“It’s a surprise.”

Louis grumbled a bit under his breath. Surprises weren’t really his thing. But he followed Elgar anyway. Maybe it was going to be some fun new sex thing.

They entered the office, where Nick was sat on the desk, trying and failing not to smile too big. 

“How was the nap?” Nick teased. 

“Too short.”

“Come ‘ere, love.” Nick stretched out a hand and Louis went easily into the space between his legs. Nick swiped his thumb at the corner of Louis’ eye to rub away an eye crusty. “Sorry we woke you up.” He planted a kiss on Louis’ forehead. “But as you know I’m terribly impatient.”

Louis tweaked Nick’s nipple. “You’re a menace.”

Nick curved in on himself and grappled to get Louis’ hands in his. “I’m the menace, huh?” 

“You are. Don’t know how we put up with you.”

Elgar stepped up and wrapped his arms around Louis’ waist, pressing himself along Louis’ back, and giving Nick a kiss. “You’re both menaces.”

Louis wiggled his arse against Elgar. “Did you wake me up for office sex?”

Elgar rubbed his hands along Louis’ biceps and ducked to speak softly into his ear. Louis shivered at the feeling of Elgar’s breath along the vulnerable line of his neck. “Mmm, that’s a great idea.” He nosed along Louis’ sensitive skin. “Maybe after your gift.”

Louis stiffened in their arms. “A gift?”

“Yeah, we know it’s not your birthday, but we were shopping and,” Nick spoke faster as he got more excited. 

Louis tried to act as happy about it as Nick and Elgar clearly were. 

“We saw it,” Elgar continued, “and we thought of you.”

“Oh.” Louis didn’t know when random gift-giving had started in this relationship, if there was some sort of milestone they had crossed that he wasn’t aware of. His lads were all as skint as him and he couldn’t remember them ever getting pumped over a gift for a bird. “Cool.”

Nick reached behind him and pulled out a small paper bag with “Rolex” written across it. 

Louis tried to take a step back but was caged in by Elgar still standing directly behind him. 

“That better be fake,” Louis said, as Nick swung the bag from his outstretched finger.

“I needed a new one,” Elgar said as he brought the gaudy, rainbow-jeweled watch to Louis’ attention. Louis hoped they didn’t think he’d wear something like that. 

“And I impulse bought one for myself,” Nick said as he flashed his as well.

“And as we were checking out, I noticed,” Elgar took the bag from Nick’s hand and presented Louis with the box inside, “this one and Nick agreed it would look perfect on you.”

Louis slid out from between them and pressed himself along the wall. “What?”

Elgar thrust it into his hands. “Open it!” 

Louis held it, felt the weight of it, and slowly turned it over a few times.

Both Nick and Elgar looked so happy with huge smiles on their faces as Louis twisted the box in his hands.

“Come on, Lou. Open it.”

“This is too much,” Louis protested. “I wouldn’t even know what to do with a Rolex.”

“It’s just a watch,” Elgar said. “You put it on your wrist.”

But it was so much more, and far too expensive for him to actually wear.

“Unless you…” Nick tilted his head. “Do you prefer a different brand? We could…” He looked over at Elgar, biting his lip.

“No. It’s…” Louis couldn’t believe he was about to open a gift from his boyfriends. A stupidly expensive gift from his stupidly fit boyfriends. He turned it over in his hands again. 

“Hurry up. I’m not getting any younger,” Nick said. 

“Fine. Fine.”

He let out a long breath and pulled the lid off. Inside the box was a gorgeous watch with a silver band and a black face. It was shiny and perfect and too expensive for him to accept. “It’s… I love it.” He did too, as much as he hated it as well.

Nick nodded his head. “Bang on.”

“But I… really this is too much.”

“It’s not,” Elgar said. “We’ve been blessed and we like to share.”

“Do you like it?”

“I do—”

“Great!” Nick chirped.

“Here, let me…” Elgar took the box from Louis’ hands and removed the watch. Louis held out his wrist and Elgar gently put it on him. Louis rotated his wrist and the watch glinted when it caught the light. He had to admit it fit him perfectly, and was far more understated than the other two, and he felt _fancy_. 

“Thank you,” he finally said. He looked up from what was the most expensive thing he owned and into his boyfriends’ eyes. “Thank you, for thinking of me.” 

Elgar brought Louis’ wrist up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss at the base of Louis’ palm. 

  


***

  


The club was deafening. Louis had been shaking his arse on the dance floor for hours while Elgar and Nick were networking—or whatever—and occasionally coming to check on him. While watching Nick flirt and Elgar converse with the beautiful people they worked with, Louis had drank the night away, enjoying the strobes and the bass and the heat. His vest clung to his body, wet with sweat. With wiggling hips and pumping fists, he kept time to the music with all the other rocking bodies.

A large pair of hands that he had come to recognise held tight to his waist as a body pressed against his back. Louis arched his back and shamelessly stuck his bum out as Nick’s fingers dug in. Elgar appeared in front of him and draped his arms across Louis’ shoulders. On the beat, he danced closer until he was grinding against Louis, pressing Louis back against Nick. Louis threw his head back against Nick’s shoulder, overwhelmed by the pressure. 

“Wanna get out of here?” Nick breathed into his ear, pulling Louis flush against him by his belt loops.

Louis nodded, barely able to stop himself from turning his head to kiss him.

Elgar gave Nick a look. “Keep it in your pants, please. There’s paps out there.”

“Paps?”

“Paparazzi,” Nick explained. “Fuck, we should’ve realised.”

“Lou, this might suck,” Elgar said.

“Okay…?” The alcohol sloshed in his stomach. Paparazzi. Flashing lights. His drunken mess of a face captured for all to see. He adjusted himself in his jeans, just in case. “Do we have to? Can you just ask them not to?”

Elgar and Nick shared another look.

“Stop it.” The world spun as Louis tried to figure out what they were not saying out loud. “Just tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I think we have to,” Elgar said, shooting Louis an apologetic glance. “My PR team was pretty clear on me being photographed in this suit, and it’ll look bad if Nick doesn’t leave with me. You don’t have to leave with us, though, you could duck out ten minutes earlier.”

Louis wiped a hand down his face, then used his vest to dab at the sweat. “What? Just stand out there in the cold waiting for you to be swarmed? They’ll still see us getting into the same car.”

“Our driver—”

“Doesn’t have the foggiest who I am and all the fucking cars look the same,” Louis finished. 

“Okay, well, you could go out the back?” Nick suggested next.

Louis blanched. Hidden like he didn’t exist, which, as far as the public knew, he didn’t. And that was how he wanted it. He had no desire to have pictures of himself walking the dogs in any newspaper or magazine. He knew Nick had to keep up appearances and Elgar needed to be photographed at work events, but there was zero reason anyone would be interested in a boring uni student. The most interesting thing about him was who he was getting dicked by. And Louis _really_ didn’t need the public to know about that.

Elgar grimaced. “Not a lot of options, unfortunately.”

“What if I just stayed here, slept in the loo, and snuck out in the morning?” Louis smiled and pretended this wasn’t another in a series of impossible decisions he didn’t want to make.

“Have some self-respect, Lou,” Nick said gently. “At least claim a booth for yourself instead of the loo floor.”

Louis’ smile didn’t quite stick. “Fine. You two go out front. Pick me up around back.”

They paused for a moment, probably trying to work out if Louis was likely to change his mind before they stepped away. He wasn’t and he shooed them out the door.

Without looking back, Elgar planted a kiss on Nick’s lips, linked their hands together, and with dual deep breaths, they passed through the door into the headache-inducing flashes and shouts. Louis blinked against the bright lights. The door shut behind them and Louis turned back into the dark club, residual flashes echoing in his eyes.

And it hit him that he hadn’t a clue where the back exit was. 

With the help of the bartender, a bar back, and finally a douchebag in a suit, he finally stepped out of the kitchen door and into the alley. The horde of paparazzi around the corner were shouting for someone else and Louis tried to figure out where the fuck the car was supposed to be. He shook a cigarette out of the pack and lit up, pacing as he waited.

The cigarette trembling between his fingers did little to calm the sick feeling lodged in his stomach about the dueling realities of his situation: the three of them together, shutting out the rest of the world, made perfect sense, but anytime they stepped out of that bubble, he was on the outside looking in, trying to figure out if he even _wanted_ in.

Finally a text from Elgar pinged, asking where he was. Louis ground the butt with his toe and called Elgar back. Bypassing a hello, he launched into, “Where am _I_? Where are _you_? I’m out back waiting, exactly like you told me too. If you wanted to humiliate me, I’m sure you could’ve found a less complicated—”

There was a moment of silence and then Elgar said quietly, “We had to circle the block and come up through a back street.” 

“Whatever,” Louis said, biting back inexplicable tears. 

“I’m sorry about all—”

“I’m freezing. Just get here.”

A black car with tinted windows pulled up. He took a tentative step forward, then stopped, wrapping his arms around himself. The backseat window lowered and Nick stuck his head out. 

“Wanna ride?” he asked with an exaggerated wink.

“Not like there’s another option,” he grumbled under his breath. 

He wasn’t a rentboy, out working the streets and hoping for some rich celebrity to change his life, yet here he was getting picked up behind the building so no one would see. 

Louis slid in next to Nick, saw Elgar’s hand splayed across Nick’s thigh, and pulled out his phone. Nick nuzzled into the side of his neck, pressing kisses to the skin right below his ear. 

“Hey baby,” he said lowly. “Sorry about all this. You okay?”

“Mm.” Louis skooted as close to the door as he could get, shrugging Nick away with his shoulder. He pulled up his conversation with Zayn. He scrolled up, not even reading, then back down again. ‘Where are you lads?’ he sent. Then, ‘The night’s a bust, thought I’d join you for a pint.’ 

Nick got the message, at least, keeping his hands to himself in the tense quiet of the backseat. Zayn still hadn’t responded by the time they got to Nick and Elgar’s house, no matter how many times Louis flipped his phone around in his hands or pulled up the chat, just in case.

Nick and Elgar tried to recreate the mood in the club once they were inside, crowding him again the door and pawing at each other. 

Louis swallowed thickly. “Think I’m gonna go to bed.”

Their faces fell, even as they nodded in understanding. “I’m a little too drunk,” he lied. 

He went upstairs alone, while they tended to the dogs and probably discussed ending this thing with him since he was an emotionally stunted fuck weasel who couldn’t tell them why he was upset. He pretended to be asleep, and they seemingly pretended they didn’t know when they eventually came to bed. He spent a good portion of the night wondering what the pictures were going to look like printed in _The Sun_.

  


***

  


Elgar was multitasking: watching Sky Sports, prepping for his shoot the next day, playing with the dogs, and waiting for Louis to wake up. After the party the night before, Louis had been acting weird, and Elgar wanted to know what had gone wrong.

Louis came down, still rubbing sleep from his eyes and plopped himself down right next to Elgar.

“Hey, babe,” Elgar said softly. “Feeling okay?”

“Mmm.” Louis tilted his face toward Elgar, blinked his long eyelashes, and nodded. “Good. Tired. Horny.” He reached down and adjusted himself in his boxers.

Elgar was tempted. “I like the sound of that.” It’d be so easy to reach over and share lazy hand jobs. “We could go back to bed after this.” He nodded toward the telly.

Louis sniffled and nuzzled against Elgar’s armpit, his wiry hairs tickled. Elgar tried not to react too much since Louis looked like he was going to fall back asleep. 

After a few quiet moments, Louis said, “I didn’t hear Nick leave this morning.”

Elgar chuckled. “Told you you’d get used to it.”

“I guess.”

“Hey,” Elgar tried to keep his tone light, “what was up last night? Did we do something wrong?”

Louis stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“The paparazzi thing. I thought we’d agreed to keep our thing private from the press. I thought you understood what that would mean. I just… I don’t understand why you got upset.” There was no reaction. “Did Nick or I do something wrong?” 

Louis sighed. 

Elgar didn’t particularly want to give Louis an out but he found himself saying, “Maybe you were just tired, but it felt like something was wrong. And if it was something, I’d like to know.” After they got home, Louis hadn’t been snuggly like he got when he was tired, like he was this morning, curled at Elgar’s side. He’d been prickly and non-communicative.

“It’s nothing,” Louis said.

“I don’t quite believe you. Seemed like something at the time.”

Louis shrugged against him. With a big sigh, he sat up and turned around so he was in Elgar’s lap. “Hi,” he said. He bit his lip and rolled his hips. 

Elgar clenched his thighs to keep from bucking up. “Hey you.”

Louis rolled his hips again. Elgar placed his hands on Louis’ hips out of instinct as Louis kissed under his jaw and along the column of his throat. Louis was awfully good at this particular route of distraction. Elgar would have to stay strong. 

“Lou. Lou, are you sure? I’d rather we talk about it.”

“Nah.” There were another series of kisses and another round of Elgar using his super human skills to stay still. “It’s nothing now, anyway.”

Elgar squeezed his hips to still them. “It was something.”

Louis stopped what he was doing. He sat back on Elgar’s knees and rolled his eyes. 

“Do we have to? It’s uh…” Louis fixed his eyes on something behind Elgar’s shoulder. “It’s embarrassing now and honestly not a big deal, so…”

“Seems like you’re making it into an awfully big deal for something that was nothing.”

“Literally, you.”

“What?” Elgar just wanted Louis to look at him. “Tell me what it was and then we can get back to what you were doing.”

“You’re going to make it into a thing.”

“I promise I won’t.”

“Oh my god. Okay.” Louis wiggled in his lap. He was still avoiding eye contact and Elgar wanted to lay him down and protect him from everything bad in the world. “I know it’s ridiculous. I know it doesn’t make sense, and there’s nothing to do about it. But like, it sucks how I can’t be, like, _seen_ with you two. Like, I don’t even want to be in the papers or whatever, like, I really, really don’t. But it still sucks that like, I was kind of shoved off to the side and like, hidden. Like a rentboy or whatever.” 

“Lou—”

“I know. It doesn’t make sense. And like, it’s not going to happen very often, so I’ll totally get used to it. It just caught me off guard, I guess.”

“Is that…” Elgar was trying to figure out an angle they could exploit if that was something Louis wanted. “Are you sure you don’t want to go public? Like, it’d be… I’m sure we could find a way, if like, that’s important to you. It’s actually the shittiest part of the job but—”

“No.” Louis leaned back and took Elgar’s cheeks in his palms. “I really, really, really do not want to be in the public eye. I’m just a stupid kid from Donny who’s done nothing remarkable—”

“You _are_ remarkable.”

“You’re the worst. I don’t mean like… I know I’m like, worthy, or whatever. My point is that I’d really hate to be in the papers like because of you, not because of me. And I’m not…” He let out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t want to be in the papers, full stop. So this really isn’t an issue at all. I was just cranky.”

“Okay. You know if you wanted to we—” It would take a some finangling and convincing of their teams, he wasn’t sure where this fit into any morality clause or whatever the two of them had, but they were all adults. They could figure out a way.

“Elgar, I promise you I don’t. And I’m not going to change my mind. So you can shut down your brain. I told you it was nothing.”

Elgar rubbed his hands against the curve of Louis’ waist. “It was just this one time, that you felt,” Elgar held tight to keep his hands from shaking, “like a rentboy, you said?”

Louis slid off his lap onto the sofa in an inelegant slump. “It’s too early for this.”

“That’s not a yes.”

“Not hidden, necessarily, but it’s not like I’ve met your friends. I don’t know if they know I exist.”

Elgar swallowed thickly. He knew Harry knew, because of course he did, but other than that, they hadn’t told anyone yet. It had been a fragile situation, and Elgar felt like if he told anyone, it’d somehow jinx it and it’d crumble away.

“And I get it,” Louis said, “if you don’t want me to meet them. The three of us, we work, and if your friends start judging… I’m like, young, and clearly don’t have any money and I know how they’ll see it.”

“They won’t. Believe me. You should see some of the people they’ve dated.”

Louis chewed on his lip and Elgar tried to decipher the look in his eye. 

“You’re proving my point,” Louis said.

“I’m—Okay, but you’re different.” Louis looked unimpressed and Elgar admitted to himself that was a weak argument. “But you are,” Elgar said under his breath. 

“Also, while we’re on the topic…”

Elgar’s stomach churned. He hated hearing that Louis had any self-doubts about his place with them. 

“Please don’t buy me any other expensive gifts.”

“What?”

“It’s nice of you. You treat me better than—well… Anyway, I know you’re coming from a good place, but like, it’s a little awkward.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like the watch…”

“Do you not like it?”

“I… It doesn’t matter. I do, but that’s not the point. It’s just a lot, you know? The lads were ragging on me about it. Like, it’s fucking Rolex. How… Where would I wear it? To classes? To the skate park? It’s probably worth more than me mum makes in a year.”

“We wanted you to have something nice.” And it wasn’t _that_ expensive.

“I like my clothes. And the stuff I have. I don’t want you changing me. I’m not in this for the gifts.”

Elgar had worried it might be too much. But he had also worried how Louis would take it if they didn’t get anything for him, like they weren’t thinking of him. “We know you’re not.” 

“It just makes me feel… weird. Like you’re buying me off. Even though, I like, know that’s not true. And no one’s ever done that. It’s like, I’m being wooed.”

“You are being wooed.” Elgar didn’t know know why Louis didn’t realise that. “This is us, wooing you. Taking you out, buying you nice things, treating you like you deserve.”

“I’m not used to it. I feel like… a girl… or something.” Louis’ cheeks flushed and he turned away again. “Embarrassing, innit?”

Elgar placed his fingers around Louis’ chin. “It’s not a masculinity thing. It’s a… we like you thing.” Louis nodded and Elgar put in a pin in that conversation for another day. “Plus, you buy us stuff too,” Elgar knew as he was saying it Louis was going to shut down this argument also. 

“A fifteen pound necklace from a street vendor is hardly the same thing.”

“Nick loves it. I don’t think he’s taken it off. Says the sun reminds him of you.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “Such a cheeseball.”

“Yeah, but he’s our cheeseball.”

Louis reached under Elgar’s shirt, rubbing his knuckles along Elgar’s abs, causing them to jump and tense. In one sneaky move, he tweaked one of Elgar’s nipples. Elgar’s cock twitched between them. 

“See,” Louis said. “Look at me whining about how my hot, rich, famous boyfriends treat me so well. I’m such a prat.” He rolled his hips again with a smirk. “Should probably fuck me into next Tuesday as punishment.”

Elgar’s traitorous cock twitched again. 

“Before that, I’d really like to finish our talk.”

Louis sighed and dropped his head dramatically to Elgar’s shoulder. “Do we have to?”

“Yes.” He forced Louis’ head up enough that he could sneak him a kiss. “How about a party. Here. Your home turf. We’ll invite some friends, they’ll get to know you and… well, they’re going to see why we adore you.”

Louis hummed. “Maybe.”

“Come on, let us show you off.”

“Can we… Can you not tell them we’re shagging?”

“I guess.” Elgar shrugged. “Embarrassed by us?”

“No, I—” Louis took a deep breath. “I know how I come across. And you two are… well… you two. Everyone’s going to think I’m just a plaything. They’re going to gossip.”

“They’re going to gossip no matter what, love.”

“Yeah, but. One night? Can I have one night to try and win them over before we tell them?”

Elgar knew it wouldn’t take a whole night; he’d win them over as quickly as he’d won over him and Nick… which is to say a handful of minutes. But he agreed. It was going to drive him batty; knowing the way his friends were, who they were drawn to, how _attractive_ Louis was. They’d be interested in his mystery and beauty, but his intellect and humour would hold their attention. What Elgar wanted was to keep an arm wrapped around his shoulder all night, for Nick to keep a territorial hand on the small of his back, for him to wear a sign that conveyed to their friends that they didn’t stand a chance. But he understood where Louis was coming from, and keeping his hands to himself for a night was a small price to pay for Louis to start to feel like their equal.

  


***

  


“Turn here.” Louis pointed to the left, and Nick turned onto Louis’ childhood street. Elgar unbuckled and sat forward on the backseat, his elbows propped on Nick and Louis’ front seats. The nerves Louis had mostly kept at bay during their drive north reared their ugly heads and Louis kept his eyes forward, not wanting to see what Nick and Elgar thought of the area where he grew up. It was eons away from their posh house.

“Where should I park?” Nick was already slowing down, ready to stop whenever Louis gave notice. He had half a mind to keep going, drive right past it and back to the freeway and back to London. 

He could never do that to his mum and sisters though, so as the Range Rover crept closer, he chirped “This is it!” just as the front door opened and his mom stepped out to wave at them.

“On the street?” Nick asked.

“Yeah. That’s fine.” Louis was already unbuckled with his hand on the handle, ready to bolt as soon as the car came to a stop. He flung the door open and ran to his mum; a flame of embarrassment sparked as he thought about what he must look like, but the sight of her walking down the path to meet him was his main concern. She gave the best hugs and he had missed them fiercely. 

He all but ran into her arms, clasping her tightly in a hug that she returned in spades. They swayed a bit, and Louis absolutely refused to cry. 

“So do I get to meet these boys of yours?” she asked. 

Louis swallowed thickly. “Yep!” He turned to find Nick and Elgar both hovering behind him. “Mum, this is Nick—”

“Off Radio One,” she unhelpfully replied as she put her arms out to give him a hug.

“Mum!” Louis chastised. 

“Well, I am,” Nick said good naturedly.

“And this is Elgar. Elgar, my mum, Jay.”

Louis’ mum dropped her arms from around Louis and embraced Elgar. 

“Nice to meet you,” Elgar said. “You’ve raised a—”

“Okay, okay.” Louis rolled his eyes. “You have all weekend to suck up to her.”

“Hellion,” Elgar finally finished his sentence. 

Jay laughed. “Did me best, but…”

“Nah, just kidding. Obviously. He’s a gem and I’m sure he’s gotten all his best qualities from you.”

She gave him a soft smile before turning back to Louis. “It’s so good to see you, Boo Bear.”

Louis groaned inwardly. He was never going to live that down. “Are the girls…” Louis steeled himself to introduce Nick and Elgar to the rest of the family, hoping they'd act normal.

“In the kitchen or hiding in their rooms, depending on their moods,” his mum answered. 

“Hey, Boo Bear?” Elgar asked. 

Louis turned slowly toward him. “No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask!” Elgar feigned innocence. Nick could barely contain his giggles. 

“Mum, you had to bring out Boo Bear immediately?” Everyone but Louis fell into laughter and as much as he hated it, it had broken the ice.

She winked at Elgar. “Do you need help with your bags?”

Elgar looked at Nick. “I think we got this.”

Nick nodded. “Just tell us where to put them.”

“You can drop them in the foyer for now. When Lou gives you the grand tour you can move them into his room.”

Louis paused midstep. He had been grappling with where they were all going to sleep. He had been spoiled at their place with their giant Alaskan King and he was pretty sure they weren’t all going to fit on the queen in his room. 

The first thing he noticed when he walked in the door was a framed copy of Louis’ _GQ_ cover. He was dressed in a green tracksuit with a white shirt underneath and his arms were straight down, so his hands were at the top of his thighs. Even he had to admit he looked good; Elgar had done a bang up job. His face was a bit tough but also inquisitive at the same time. 

“You framed it?” Louis turned to ask his mum.

“Of course I did. Dead proud of you.” She ruffled his hair as she walked by.

“It was all Elgar really. I just stood there like a dolt.” Louis toed his shoes off and left them in the pile.

“You were brilliant,” Elgar said as he took his off too. “Can’t believe you won’t do it again.”

Louis shrugged. It was an alright experience, but it wasn’t for him.

They all shuffled into the kitchen and Nick said, “We’ll get him on The Breakfast Show next.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “Definitely not. Closest I’ll get to that is DJing a house party.”

“Yeah?” Nick looked surprised. “You’re interested in that?”

“Not like, professionally,” Louis scoffed. He didn’t have proper skill at fading and beats matching, but he loved putting together playlists. “But used to put songs together for my mates’ parties.”

“Cool,” Nick said, and he seemed totally serious.

“Can I get you lot anything to drink? Tea?” Louis' mum asked right before his sisters walked in.

Louis’ sisters were weirdly awkward when meeting Nick and Elgar. As far as he knew his mum hadn’t given them all the details of their relationship so he supposed they were gobsmacked by their name only, and figured that’s probably what he looked like meeting them a few months prior as well. 

It wasn’t until they were tromping up the stairs to show them the house that he gave another thought to the sleeping situation. He was about to broach the subject as he opened the door to his room. Since the last time he had been back, his mum had rearranged the furniture. To fit a king sized bed. “What the…” He dropped his backpack on the floor. “Excuse me,” he said as he walked past Nick and Elgar and straight back downstairs again. 

“Mum!” He pulled her into the mudroom. “What—”

“You like it?”

“You seriously bought a new bed?”

“Well, I didn’t think you’d all fit on the one that was up there.”

“But…”

“Did you think I was going to make someone sleep on the sofa?”

“Zayn slept on the sofa the last time he was here!”

She gave him a funny look. “You and Zayn weren’t… together… were you?”

“Oh my god! Mum! No!” Gross. “It’s just… a new bed?”

She pulled him in for a hug. “You’re welcome.”

He held her tight for a moment longer. “Thanks, mum. You really are the best.”

“I’m glad you brought them up. I feel better about it, now that I’ve seen the way they look at you.”

“What?” Louis stepped out of the hug to look at her. “What does that mean?”

“They look at you like… like you hung the moon.”

“What are you talking about?”

She tilted her head and gave him an appraising look. Then she gave a soft smile and kissed his temple. “You look happy, Boo.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Nick!” Poppy yelled from where she was entering the room. “What is this shit?”

Nick glanced over to where Louis was sat on the sofa between Cara and Henry. Even over the music and the shouting and the dogs, he had definitely heard her entrance. Louis’ cheeks had a blush of pink and he was picking at the ratty hole in his jeans.

Nick felt a protective curl in his chest. “Oi! Watch yourself! It’s Aoki’s remix of My Chem and I think it’s brilliant.” Louis may have created the playlist, but Nick still had a reputation to uphold, and he had reserved the right to nix anything he thought was shit.

“Welcome by the way,” he said, kissing her cheeks. She plopped herself on Cara’s lap. “Make yourself at home.”

She leaned across the front of the couch, across Louis’ lap, pulling Henry into a sort of hug, then narrowed her eyes at Louis. “Who’s this?”

Louis glanced briefly at Nick. “’M Louis.”

“Okay, Louis, who are you?”

“Who are _you_?” Louis countered.

Nick couldn’t help his snort of laughter and when Poppy glared at him, he put his hands up in surrender. Even if Louis didn’t know it, and actually sincerely doubted it, he was going to get along just fine with their friends. “Want a drink, Pop?” he asked her. 

“Immediately.” 

“This is our friend, Louis Tomlinson. He was on the cover of February’s _GQ Style_ and he’s fucking brilliant. Be nice.”

She rolled her eyes, turning to seemingly assess Louis again in light of this new information. “I’m always nice.”

“Sure you are. Lou, you need anything?”

Louis shook his head, a small grateful smile on his lips, and Nick wove through the crowd in his living room towards the kitchen. Aimee and Ian couldn’t make it since Sunday was sick with a fever. He’d have to remember to send them a selfie at some point to show them all they were missing. Nick realised most of his friends had coupled off at some point when he wasn’t paying attention; the house was full of pairs and so far no one had come up to him asking who else was available. When had they all gotten so old and predictable?

When he got back from the kitchen, Henry and Poppy were laughing at a story Louis was telling. Nick slipped a drink into Poppy’s hand and spared Louis a fond smile. As the night wore on, Nick caught occasional glimpses of both Louis and Elgar, rarely together. At no point did Louis look like he was drowning, and Nick couldn’t help but be oddly proud that he was holding his own despite being scared shitless before the first wave of guests arrived.

The three of them had agreed on not saying anything to anyone about what Louis was to them. They knew they’d have to, eventually, but Louis, in particular, was very set on the idea of trying to win over a friend or two on his own merits before telling everyone that they were all dating. Louis was sure everyone would just think he was trying to break them up and although Nick did want to give his friends more credit than that, if it was going to make Louis feel more secure, then he was going to go along with it. 

For now. 

Because it was becoming awfully hard to watch Louis and Michael on the makeshift dance floor. It was hard to stay put when every nerve in his body was itching to join them and wrap an arm around Louis and stake his claim like some jealous barbarian. So he kept his distance, half listening to some story Finchy was telling about Dua Lipa—the only thing keeping him from getting fully hard. 

He noticed the heat in Elgar’s eyes too, from the other side of the room, as Michael put his hands on Louis’ hips and dipped in closer. Louis, who had maybe not noticed all the ways Michael had been checking him out, smoothly put another few inches between them, and kept shaking his arse. 

Elgar circled the room, and came up behind Nick, resting his chin on Nick’s shoulder. “This is torture,” he said lowly. 

Nick nodded. “How much longer ‘til we can kick everyone out?”

Elgar scoffed. He kissed the wing of Nick’s shoulder. “You know our friends will leave on their own sweet time whether or not we shut down the party.”

“I say we cancel our friends.”

Elgar laughed. “I’m going to dance.”

Nick turned around and gave Elgar a quick kiss. “You do that. I’ve got to make sure Pixie hasn’t spilt red wine on the dogs.” 

Later, much later, when the majority of their friends had left, Nick was getting a water bottle from the refrigerator when Michael grabbed his elbow. “Mate. Haven’t talked to you all night.”

“I know!” Nick enveloped him in a hug. “Where’ve you been? What’s new? You look great.”

Michael did a little turn to show off his outfit. “FILA,” he said, as if Nick didn’t know already. “Elgar and I are going to work on a shoot soon. Should be sick.”

“Oh, yeah, he mentioned that. Some footballer, right?”

Michael laughed. “ _Some footballer._ Raheem Sterling.”

“You’ll smash it like always, I’m sure. Let me know the next time Beckham’s in.”

“Hey, mate.” Michael moved into Nick’s space slowly. “Everything okay with you and EJ?”

“Yeah, ’course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well…”

“For fucks sake, gossip queen, just tell me.”

Michael scoffed. “Fine. I just caught Elgar getting friendly with that twink from earlier.”

Nick choked on his white wine. “What,” he said through a coughing fit. “What the fuck are you talking about?” He tilted his head and tried to look confused.

“He and this lad were snogging in the hallway upstairs. I went to take a piss and they ducked into a spare room. Looked pretty hot and heavy to me.”

“Oh.” Nick tried not to let on that in a perfect world he’d be able to teleport there immediately.

Michael blinked at him and Nick wondered how long he had stand there until it wouldn’t be rude to flee.

“Have things changed? Is he allowed to dick some other dude without you? If that’s the case… you free tonight?” He squeezed Nick’s waist.

Fucking hell. How’d he end up the one having to dodge an explanation. “No, it’s… No. It’s… complicated.”

Michael took a step back. “Did you fuck up so he gets a free pass?”

“Fuck you. No.”

“Okay, whatever. I can mind my own business next time I see your fiancé with his tongue down another bloke’s throat.”

“I—I mean thank you, but it is—”

“Complicated,” Michael finished for him. He shook his head. “I should’ve known with you two.”

Nick stepped toward the doorway. 

“Oh, and once EJ is done with him, feel free to pass his number along. He’s fucking fit.”

Nick turned with a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll pass along the offer.”

Michael cackled and Nick flicked him off as he walked away.

Nick took the stairs two at a time and peeked into every room until he found them, snogging on top of the covers like they had all the time in the world. They looked so good intertwined and Nick’s fingers itched to touch.

“Heard my boyfriend had snuck away for a cheeky snog,” Nick said as he stepped closer. “Lucky me to find both of you here.”

He closed the door behind him. The rest of the guests could find their own way out.

  


***

  


Louis couldn’t quite tamp down on his smile as he shuffled the bag from the bakery down the street into his other hand. He pulled out his brand new key to let himself into their house. Since it was still early on a Sunday morning he hoped to surprise them with breakfast in bed, as a ‘Happy seven months since we started fucking’ gift.

Instead, he was surprised to find a near-naked Harry Styles leaning against the counter in front of the coffee maker and a bunch of bananas, wearing grey briefs that left nothing to the imagination.

“Oh! Hi?” Louis said as he put the bag of pastries down.

“Um. Hello.” Harry dragged his eyes up Louis’ body. “You’re even more fit than Nick said you were.”

Louis tried to keep his eyes above Harry’s waist, but between the birds on his chest and the butterfly on his stomach his eyes danced around his torso. And the fucking laurels. Harry smirked when Louis’ eyes snapped back up to his face. 

“You’re not wearing any trousers,” Louis said dumbly. 

Harry shrugged. “Didn’t know we were expecting company.” He drank the last of his coffee and poured himself another cup. “Nick and EJ are still in bed. Want some?”

“No. I’m good. Thanks.” 

Harry was drinking out of Louis’ mug; it had a double rainbow bridging two skeleton hands, and Louis loved it. And Harry was still in his pants and still leaning casually and still looking at Louis with heat in his eyes. 

And it was still Harry Styles, who Louis knew from the tabloids and gossip columns and his little sisters’ walls, in his boyfriends' kitchen, with disheveled hair, looking like he owned the place. “That’s my mug,” he said before he could help himself. “It’s mine.”

“Oh. Sorry?”

Harry looked like a chastised puppy. Louis rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t matter.”

“So you’re the new boyfriend, huh?” Harry asked. “How’s it going?”

Louis nodded and managed to say, “Fine.” He cleared his throat. 

Harry smiled a slow smile and hooked his tongue at the back of his mouth. “You like it? Shagging two lads at once?” He oozed a smug confidence that brought Louis’ hackles up.

“’M not a slag.” Louis shot back. “Haven’t done this before,” he added. Then he kept talking. “Not before them.”

Harry put up his hands in surrender. After taking a sip of coffee he asked, “Two lads at once or lads in general?” 

Louis flushed. He wasn’t about to give Harry the satisfaction of needling the truth out of him. How many people he’d screwed was exactly none of Harry Styles’ business. 

He reached around Harry for the kettle. Harry was Nick’s BFF and Louis wanted to make a good impression. He was doing a piss poor job so far. “You watch the Man U match yesterday?”

“Yeah—”

Elgar’s gruff “Hey” interrupted them as he walked into the kitchen. “This fucking Manc came over to watch Liverpool win. He was gutted.” 

He punched Harry lightly in the bicep and then wrapped an arm around Louis. He kissed Louis’ temple. 

“Good morning.” Elgar’s smile went all soft and Louis could feel himself mirroring it back. “Wasn’t expecting you.”

“Thought I’d surprise you,” Louis said softly.

“Best surprise ever, you are.” Elgar pressed a gentle kiss to Louis’ lips. “I see you’ve met Harry.”

“He came bearing gifts,” Harry said, gesturing to the pastry bag.

“Do you have to walk around in your pants?” Elgar asked. “Contrary to popular belief not everyone is interested in your prick all the time.” His eyes lit up as he picked a chocolate croissant from the bag. He turned to Louis. “Thanks, baby. My favourite.”

“I know,” Louis said, chuffed that he had gotten it right.

Harry laughed. "I’m sorry, but Nick kept me up all night, _if_ you know what I'm saying—wink, wink—just be grateful I had energy left to put on pants at all." 

The bottom dropped out of Louis’ stomach. He watched Harry paw through the bag and Elgar rummage through the cupboards for a coffee mug, as though Harry hadn’t just said _that_. It had to be a joke.

“They’re not for you,” Louis said sharply. “Didn’t know anyone else would be here.” 

“Okay. Sorry.” Harry dropped the bag. With a confused look Harry turned back to his coffee and this was not at all how meeting him was supposed to go.

He looked over to see Elgar frowning as he finished pouring himself coffee. He gave Louis a questioning look before taking a sip.

Louis hadn’t meant to be so rude.

“Oi! Why’s everybody up?” Nick asked. 

The dogs followed him into the kitchen. Pig jumped up on Louis and Louis rewarded her by rubbing behind her ears.

“She shouldn’t get love for bad behaviour,” Nick said right on schedule… and ironically enough. “Hey you.” He pulled Louis in for a kiss. “Thought I heard your voice.”

Nick didn’t seem bothered in the least.

“Of course you’re naked again,” Nick murmured, separating from Louis in favour of biting Harry’s shoulder. "You really are a whore," Nick said, wrapping an arm around his waist. 

Elgar rolled his eyes, then gave Louis a private smile. 

“Oh, fuck me.” Nick shook his favourite pastery, an almond puff, out of the bag. “You remembered,” he cooed at Harry.

Louis shot daggers from his eyes. “Actually—”

“I did remember, but these are courtesy of the new boyfriend.”

“Louis,” Louis growled.

“You shouldn’t’ve,” Nick said to Louis, his lips already coated with powdered sugar. “But I’m glad you did.”

He kissed Louis then, sweet and deep, and Louis arched into it despite wanting to punch him in the throat.

“Hot,” Harry said. “I get it now.”

Nick pulled away from Louis and turned to finish fixing Louis’ tea. He pinched one of Harry’s prominent nipples. "You've still got dried come on your stomach, by the way."

“Wanna lick it off?” Harry asked before scratching at his hip. “Know how much you lo—”

“Haz,” Elgar warned, scratching Pig’s ears. “Not in front of the dogs, please. They don’t need to hear about that.”

Louis didn’t need to hear about it either.

“Banana, anyone?” Harry asked, snapping one from the bunch. A banana did sound good to Louis, but certainly not one of Harry’s. His chocolate donut was better anyway.

“Gross,” Elgar said, turning around. Nick shook his head.

“More for me,” Harry preened. He peeled it most of the way, then locking eyes with Louis slowly slid it in his mouth. Instead of biting it, he pulled it back out, scraping his teeth along the fruit. He licked the end of it. Elgar turned around when Harry moaned and then gagged when Harry stuck it back between his lips. 

“I hate you,” Elgar said.

“You love me, and my banana,” Harry said with his mouth full.

“You and your banana can fuck off as far as I’m concerned,” Elgar said. Louis understood the sentiment. Then Elgar’s facade crumbled and he started giggling. “I do hate you and you better take those bananas with you when you go.”

“’Course I will. I’m not a monster.”

Louis was pretty sure the jury was still out on that. 

“Missed you,” Nick said softly, messing up Harry’s hair even worse than it was. “How’s the next record coming along?” 

Harry hummed and tilted his head back and forth as he swallowed the last bite. “Okay, actually.”

Nick had forgotten about Louis’ tea, which was fine, really. He had no interested in hearing about Harry’s creative process. He grabbed the uneaten half of his donut and slowly walked out of the kitchen. He was halfway to the tube when he placed his own bet on how long it’d take for them to notice he had left.

  


***

  


Elgar looked over and Louis was gone. He waited, trying to pay attention to Harry’s and Nick’s conversation, but the longer that Louis didn’t come back from the loo, the harder it was to concentrate.

“Did Lou leave?” he asked, interrupting whatever Nick was saying.

They all stared at the spot where he had been standing.

“For fuck’s sake,” Elgar sighed, pushing past them to see if his board was still at the front door. He knew it wouldn’t be.

“I’ll be back,” he shouted into the house. Shoving his feet into the nearest pair of shoes, he walked outside and pulled out his phone.

He sent a message asking where he had gone off to, then took off in a run towards the tube. 

Louis was sat on a bench outside the station, with his head in his hands. As soon as Elgar saw him, he slowed to a walk then sat down beside him, gulping in air. 

Louis stiffened next to him, but didn’t lift his head. “What happened in there?" Elgar asked once he caught his breath. 

“Fuck.” Louis pressed the heel of his hands into his eyes. "I told you I wasn't okay with you fucking your other mates.”

“Yeah…” Elgar drew the word out in confusion.

“Harry's a mate, isn't he?”

“Yeah…” Elgar repeated, feeling dumb for missing whatever connection Louis was making.

“He was all over Nick just now and apparently still has Nick's come on his stomach.”

“Oh! Wait. No!”

“Fuck this, this was a bad idea. I _knew_ this was going to be shit.” 

"No, wait. Nick is Harry's boyfriend. You've got your wires crossed here. Nick _Jonas_ , he’s still asleep in the guest room.”

Louis wiped furiously at his eyes. Elgar continued, “That's not _our_ Nick's come on his stomach, I promise. He wouldn't—he wouldn't do that to you, or to me. They're just mates. One hundred percent platonic mates." 

"It didn't look like just mates in there. You all used to fuck, didn’t you?" Louis glared at him, eyes red and puffy.

Fucking Harry. Of course this would happen because of Harry. "Yeah, we fooled around with him a while back. Not anymore. It got messy. He and Nick…” Elgar sighed. “It just got messy." 

Louis turned his head toward the street. "Messy," he echoed.

"Feelings messy. Unrequited messy feelings messy. He and Nick are just friends now, nothing more. I promise." 

Louis scoffed. "And yet he has a key to your house and he sits around in his pants and says things like, ‘ _We_ weren't expecting company.’” 

Elgar couldn’t help but sigh; it was near impossible to explain. He barely understood it himself. "Look, it's messy. He and Nick, it's just. A thing. I've learned to live with it.”

“He was flirting. They were flirting.”

“There's always going to be something weird about them, but I swear they're just mates. He's never crossed any boundaries since we all stopped sleeping together."

"Because you've never actually set any boundaries? You don't want him cosying up to Harry anymore than I do, but you haven't reigned him in because you're worried he won't behave if you do. Am I right?" 

Well. When put that way. "It's complicated. Adult relationships are—” 

"Adult relationships. Pff. Fuck off.” Louis leapt up from the bench. “This might be my first time doing this, and maybe you’ve had longer to get used to this, or maybe you don’t actually care, but you can’t expect me to just know about your shitty history."

“Right, sorry. Of course not.”

“And I get adult relationships, you prick. I know they can be complicated. What we have is complicated. But my feelings are still valid. You don’t get to dismiss them.”

“Lou—”

“I just need some time to cool off. And probably sleep. I was up at the ass crack of dawn.” 

“Okay. Sorry.” Elgar knew when to back off. “Thanks for breakfast.”

“Right.” 

Louis turned and entered the station, and Elgar went back to their house, his stomach knotted at the thought of having to confront Nick. He dragged his feet. No matter how calmly he would try to explain Louis’ reaction to the Harry situation, Nick was going to get bloody defensive. This mess wasn’t going to be cleaned up without a fight.

  


***

  


Nick rolled his eyes at Harry after Elgar rushed out of the kitchen. “Boy scout.”

Harry laughed. “Something like that.”

Before they got through their first cup of coffee, Nick Jonas had woken up and made his way downstairs. Elgar still hadn’t returned from fetching Louis. Harry and Nick Jonas had their arms around each other, and Nick kept averting his eyes. It was like they were both allergic to clothes. 

Nick winced when the door slammed shut. Elgar walked up to him and mirrored Harry and Nick’s position, slinging his arm around Nick’s waist. Nick hooked his around Elgar’s sweaty shoulder. 

“Can we talk, babe?” Elgar said quietly before kissing his shoulder.

“We have guests.” Nick didn’t want to discuss whatever this was. He was having fun. And it was first thing in the bloody morning.

Elgar raised his eyebrows at Harry, then turned back to Nick. “Hardly think Harry’s going to write to the agony column about it.”

“I can see the headlines now,” Harry joked. “‘Popstar’s feelings hurt because his exes’ new triad hit a bump in the road and they wanted to talk privately.’”

It was like Harry had never read a paper. “That’s an annoying long headline.”

Nick got a laugh out of Nick, at least.

“Oi. Fuck off,” Harry laughed. “Go. Talk it out. We’ll be here when you get back.”

Fuck Harry for letting him off the hook so easily. He didn’t know what he had done wrong, but he knew somehow it must’ve been his fault.

Once Elgar dragged him upstairs, Nick turned and with just as much attitude as he used to have as a teen, asked, “What?”

Elgar froze, then crossed his arms and popped his hip. “Really?”

With a sigh and a dramatic roll of his eyes, Nick relaxed his stance, then Elgar did too. He was going to make Elgar talk first though. 

“Are you even concerned about him?”

“He’s not a child. If he wants to be rude and leave without saying goodbye I’m not going to track him down like I’m his mum.” He had signed up for a shag, not for daddy duties. 

“You don’t have to be a dick.”

“He didn’t have to either.”

“Oh my god. Who’s acting like a child now.”

He stuck his tongue out at Elgar. It was stupid and definitely childish, but if Elgar was going to call him out like that, he was going to lean into it. 

“He was taken aback. He didn’t know Harry was going to be here. And you know how Harry is. Lou was freaked out and convinced you had slept with him.”

“I didn’t.” Those days were long gone.

“Duh. I know that. How was Louis supposed to know that?”

“Because he should trust me?” That seemed obvious enough. “We all agreed.”

“You were talking about the come on his stomach.”

“I didn’t put it there! It’s not my fault the lad has an aversion to showers. And clothes.” He didn’t understand how this was his fault. At all. “Fucking rock star,” he muttered under his breath.

“Can you just… cut down on the flirting, maybe?”

“Whose team are you on here? Since when is my flirting an issue?”

“There aren't any fucking teams. You behaved inappropriately and made Lou feel unsafe and I'd like you to take some fucking responsibility and apologise to him. I tried to explain the Harry thing, but like…”

“What _Harry thing_?” Nick knew he was a flirt. He flirted with pretty much everyone who crossed his path, male or female. It wasn’t like Harry was a special circumstance.

“Oh, come off it. We both know there’s… history. But I’ve lived through it and I know it’s nothing, but Louis— Can you really blame him for misconstruing the situation?”

Nick didn’t know how much of this was about Louis. “Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Do you know that there’s nothing between me and Harry?”

Elgar took a step back. “Seriously?”

“I’m just asking.”

“I know there’s not. You two are terrible flirts, but I know it’s not what we have.”

“And that we haven’t hooked up—haven’t even snogged—in ages. Since we all…”

“I know.”

“Okay.” Nick had to believe him.

“Just apologise to Lou. Now, please.”

“It’s not that serious. Like, I doubt I made him feel ‘unsafe.’ It’s just flirting.”

“I’m—What? That’s so besides the point. It is serious and he was hurt by your actions and he deserves an explanation. From you.”

Nick realised, with startling clarity, what was happening. Elgar wasn’t choosing him over Louis. Or Louis over him. He was mediating an equal playing field, and he wasn’t going to let Nick get away with whatever sheepish terrible half-apology he normally used on Elgar. “I'll talk to him.”

“Yeah?”

Nick sighed. He would talk to Louis and explain his relationship with Harry. And he would try to cut down on the flirting. 

But, well, he was only human.

  


***

  


Phil Collins’ set had been the highlight of Leeds Fest, so far, in Elgar’s opinion. After his set, he walked off stage, drank some water, and was ushered over to be interviewed by Nick. Elgar loved watching Nick in his element: relaxing people, drawing them into a conversation, getting them to open up about their lives. Elgar and Louis were too far away to listen in, but Nick looked happy enough, so he assumed it was going well. 

The interview was Nick’s last for the day so after they wrapped, the three of them set out in search of some dinner.

Louis was amped after seeing “Phil Collins! From the Cadbury Gorilla advert!!!” play live and was like an enthusiastic puppy begging Nick for scraps from the interview. Nick’s answers were monosyllabic; a series of shrugs and “yeah”s that were no deterrent to Louis’ questions. Elgar slung an arm over Louis’ shoulder, in an attempt to quell his eager movements. Nick was in a mood, for some reason, and Louis wasn’t helping.

Over greasy burgers and shared chips, Elgar silently asked Nick what was up.

“I told him how much my dad loved him,” Nick said quietly. Louis head snapped up from where he had been opening a ketchup packet. “Was one of the few things we agreed on, musically.”

Louis gave Nick a hug, diving into his side and squeezing tightly. Elgar never knew what to say. “I’ll never forget Pete Grimshaw's mad DJ skills on that road trip to Glasgow a few years back. The only thing he'd let us listen to in the car was that live Genesis album.” 

Nick let out a long, audible breath. “He would’ve been proper chuffed about me interviewing him.” 

Nick’s mood never quite recovered that night. 

  
  


Waking up to the sound of crickets, Elgar snuggled into Nick’s back, trying to drift back into a few more minutes of sleep.

“Morning,” Louis said through a yawn, his voice at its raspiest.

Nick shifted next to Elgar, wrapping an arm around Louis. “Hey, babe,” Nick said. 

Elgar could hear their kisses and as much as he did want more sleep, he wanted kisses more. 

Eventually, after they had all gotten off and cleaned their teeth, and then gotten off again, Nick had to get up and go do his job. 

“You okay?” Elgar asked after the second time he caught Nick staring off into space. 

“Yep.” He pasted on the fake smile that Elgar saw right through. “Right as rain.”

Elgar squeezed the back of his neck. Maybe he’d want to talk later.

Louis turned up the music when the Spice Girls’ “Wannabe” started playing through the sound system they had set up. He grabbed Nick’s hands and pulled him to standing, forcing him to shake his arse and flail around. He couldn’t match Louis’ passion, but he made a valiant effort. At the very least, Nick’s fake smile slid into something real. Elgar laughed along with him as he spun Louis, ballroom-style, then almost dropped him while trying to do a dip.

Elgar recorded them making fools of themselves. It was probably the best Leeds Fest he had ever been to. 

And that was even before he watched in amusement as Nick tried to clean his wellies with a baby wipe. He was hopeless.

“You’re going to love it,” Nick grumbled, echoing Elgar’s words as they had stumbled out of the car the morning before, minus the enthusiasm, back to him.

Louis giggled. “You have been loving it, and you’d probably love it a lot more if you just surrendered to the power of the mud.”

“Never!”

“They’re just going to get muddy again the moment you step out of the tent,” Elgar stated the obvious to goad Nick.

“Well if you had let me win the tent versus B&B argument, they could’ve gotten some pics of me with clean boots.” Nick pulled another wipe out of the pack. “I want it on the record that I’m officially too old for this.”

“Good thing I’m here to keep you young and sprightly,” Louis said. “Also, this is the most posh campsite I’ve ever seen. Clean toilets and actual wooden walls? Zayn’s gonna be so jealous when he learns he didn’t have to suffer through actual camping.”

“What’s the point of getting papped at a B&B if we’re at a festival?” Elgar asked. 

“Could be anywhere, at that point,” Louis tacked on.

Nick smiled and shook his head. “I hate you two.” 

“That’s not what you were saying last night,” Louis said, with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Nick abandoned his boots and fell on the bed on top of Elgar and Louis. “I don’t want to leave,” he whined. “What if I skip work and we go for round three instead?” He rested his forehead against Louis’ and Elgar felt his heart expand in his chest.

“Why don’t you go do what you have to do, while Louis and I stay and have round three.”

Nick pouted. “Worst idea ever. I’ll only agree if you send me pictures.”

Louis pretended to be scandalised. “Why I never!”

“I happen to have proof from that last week that you do, indeed,” preened Nick.

“What?” Elgar’s voice made an embarrassing squawk. “Louis William Tomlinson—”

“Tommo to you.” Louis booped his nose. Elgar was pretty sure no one had ever booped his nose before.

“Not Tommo either. Lou. Louiiiiiie. Lou-Lou-Lou-Lou-Bamba,” Elgar sang off-key but Louis was smiling and biting his lower lip and Elgar could make up silly songs to keep that look on his face forever.

“Louie Louie. Oooohhhhhh no, me gotta go,” Nick sang, popping his feet into his still-dirty wellies. 

“Boooo,” Louis jeered. “We’ll miss you.”

“Dick pics, please!” Nick shouted as he skipped out into the dewy morning. 

“You really sent him nudes last week?” Elgar asked, snuggling back into the pillow.

“Of course not!” Louis looked offended, then he burst into laughter. “I sent them earlier this week.”

“Oh really?” Elgar flipped around so he was on top of Louis. “And how does one get in the queue for nudes?”

“Literally, all you have to do is ask. Didn’t know you were interested.” Louis wrapped his legs around Elgar’s waist, pinning him in place. 

Elgar scoffed. “Interested in you—and your dick—all day every day.”

“Come here and prove it.”

Nick had texted back some emojis in response to the suggestive pictures they sent while he was out working, but they hadn’t heard from him by the time they were done with round four. They climbed out of the tent, stopped by the private reception area for a coffee, and made their way into the crowded field.

They found Fiona at the BBC Radio One booth, who suggested they go check out the Republic Stage because he had gone off to see Yungblud. 

Elgar enjoyed watching Louis bounce to the music and people watch while they looked for Nick. Louis laced their fingers together and cut through the crowds, zig-zagging in their wellies through the mud. 

When after a thorough search they still couldn’t find him, Louis asked, “Do you think he went back to the tent?” He was still fist pumping his free hand with the beat. 

“Maybe?” Elgar answered. “I think he would’ve texted though. He shrugged. “Maybe his phone died.”

An annoyed looked passed over Louis face, before he pasted on a grin. “We’ll have fun without him!”

Elgar smiled back. As the sun shone down, one of his boyfriends was dancing in front of him in short shorts and an oversized tank—showing off the curves of his thigh, the pale skin of his armpit, and an occasional flash of nipple—and his other boyfriend would find them eventually. Life was good.

  
  


Afternoon passed into a gorgeous twilight, and then a slightly sunburnt Louis was drunk, swaying in Elgar’s arms, and whispering deliciously dirty things in his ear.

Until he froze, arms going stiff around Elgar’s neck, and hissed, “What the absolute fuck.”

Elgar turned in place so he could see what Louis was seeing: Nick, dancing in some hipster stranger’s arms, arms wrapped around the bloke’s neck, and his head thrown back in laughter. The stranger pushed back the curls from Nick’s forehead and dragged his thumb down the side of Nick’s face. Elgar’s heart stopped when it looked like they were about to kiss, before Nick pulled back a few inches and bit his lip, looking around like he was gauging how much interest was being paid to him. His attention was back on the man before he noticed Louis and Elgar staring at him.

Louis dropped his beer and it splashed against Elgar’s leg as he stalked towards Nick. A sick part of him wanted to snatch Louis’ arm, stopping him in place so they could keep watching, to see how far Nick was planning on taking this. The other part, the part that wanted him to immediately disentangle himself from this stranger, let Louis go, and he followed behind.

“You promised,” Louis snarled, once he was close enough for Nick to hear. “You promised me that you weren’t looking for anyone else.”

Nick’s eyes went wide as Louis stepped closer, one hand balled up in a fist, the hand other pointing at Nick.

“You promised,” Louis screamed, his voice going hoarse and wobbly at the end as the crowd started to gawk.

“I haven’t done anything,” Nick said flippantly, apparently unbothered that his head was pillowed on another man’s shoulder. His eyes were bloodshot and he stunk of weed.

“You haven’t done anything?” Louis repeated. “Seriously? That’s all you have to say for yourself?”

Nick’s eyes flicked to Elgar as he swallowed thickly. “Tell him, Elgar, you know I haven’t done anything.”

“No,” Elgar said softly. He was sure Nick couldn’t hear, so he repeated himself, shaking his head.

“What?” Nick’s brows knit in confusion. 

“We’ve been looking for you all day,” Elgar said slowly. “And this is how we find you? After everything?”

“After everything?” Nick screeched. “Both of you know I’m a flirt. You know that and you love that and that’s what attracted you to me, but I never act on it. You know I only fuck you two.”

Louis staggered back. “That’s… is that what you think this is?” He looked wildly to Elgar. “Just fucking?”

“It’s not—”

“What do you want from me?” Nick stumbled toward them as he interrupted Elgar. “I’m faithful. I come home every night to you. You get to reap all these benefits,” he swung his arms around, “and it’s not like I was going to go back to his tent tonight.”

The bloke scoffed “Fuck you” and he gathered his blanket before walking off.

Louis had tears threatening to fall and he wiped his face angrily. “He’s right. Fuck you. Fuck you if you think for one second I’m here for the ‘benefits’ and not to spend time with you.”

“I was on my way back to—”

“Stop lying,” Elgar said. “Just stop. Whether there was an intent on your part to follow through or not, you clearly gave everyone the impression that you wanted to.”

“I didn’t even kiss him,” Nick said, putting his hands on his hips and keeping his eyes on the grass.

“He was touching your hair,” Louis said.

“So?”

“So? Are you serious? You wouldn’t let me touch your hair for ages. My fingers used to twitch for it, but you’d always grab my wrist and stop me.”

Nick was quiet for a long moment. “We’re at a festival…”

“Were you lying to me? After that morning with Harry. When you promised me you’d try?” Louis stared him down as Nick kicked fruitlessly at the grass. “Did you know what you were doing? Ignoring your phone so you could flirt with him? Was it a decision not to stop? Or did you not even think of us today? Did we even cross your mind?”

Nick glanced over at Elgar but Elgar refused to help him out of this mess. He stepped closer to Louis and put his arm around his shoulders. He was shaking, and Elgar squeezed his arm gently. He knew the feeling. 

“Okay,” Elgar said eventually, when it was clear Nick wasn’t planning on defending himself further. “We’re going to go back to our tent. We’ll see you when you’re ready to talk.”

Nick didn’t show up for hours after Elgar and Louis got back, until after they were already in bed. Elgar couldn’t tell if Nick was stumbling around on purpose to get a rise out of them, or if he was too drunk and high to stay coordinated and quiet. Louis was still awake, but pretending to sleep, having turned away from Nick when he showed up in the doorway. Once Nick finally stripped himself of his clothes, Elgar could feel him hovering at the foot of the bed. _Go to Lou,_ Elgar sent him telepathically. But after a deep sigh, Nick tripped over to Elgar’s side of the bed and crawled in behind him.

Elgar rolled over to face Nick. Elgar opened his mouth to see if he was okay, but Nick shook his head. He was hazy-eyed as he dismissed Elgar with a quick flick of his wrist. “Don’t,” he whispered. 

So Elgar stayed quiet. 

No one slept well that night. 

They all flopped and sighed through the night, before silently getting dressed and watching the sun turn the sky a brilliant pink.

  


***

  


The train rumbled through the country on the way back to London. Nick looked over at Elgar, who was white-knuckled and resolutely staring out the window.

“Arctic Monkeys’ set was good, don’t you think?” Nick asked. 

Elgar grunted. 

“Wasn’t sure how it was going to translate. Their new sound.”

“Yeah, was good.” 

Elgar still wouldn’t look him in the eye. Louis had decided to go with Zayn from the festival to Zayn’s family’s house for the night. He would’ve been a good buffer; the train ride was excruciating. Then Nick remembered the last look Louis had shot his way. It was probably best this way.

Nick looked around, no one seemed to be paying them any attention. “We’re going to be okay, right? I know I was shitty and I do know better. I’m not going to spout any bullshit excuses. I fucked up, and I own that.”

Elgar’s jaw clenched. Nick sat back, prepared for the silent treatment the rest of the trip. He dug his nails into his palms. He had let Louis borrow his headphones on the way to the festival and never got them back. “Fuck.”

Elgar finally turned to look at him. His eyes narrowed and Nick gave his best wide-eyed apologetic look, complete with a pout.

Elgar softened, quietly asking, "Isn't it about time we stopped messing around outside of our relationship and actually got serious about this?" 

Nick crossed his arms. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

Together, they had always messed around outside of their relationship. That’s why their relationship worked. It’s why the thing with Louis was still working, as far as he was aware. He yanked his bag onto his lap and pretended to look for something. 

"It means,” Elgar put a hand on his forearm, “sometimes I think your whole flirting with people thing is a way to avoid properly committing.” 

Nick huffed. He hadn’t _done_ anything with that guy, and he hadn’t even planned on it. He was committed. And honestly, Elgar was one to talk. 

Both of their rings were still sitting in the velvet box in his drawer.

“And it makes Lou really uncomfortable and you need to decide whether you want him or… that." 

Fucking hell. "Him, or that? Or you and him, or that? Are you setting some sort of ultimatum?" Nick bristled. Forcing him into a corner was generally the fastest way to make him flee.

"I'm saying I'm in love with him, and I'm in love with you, and you're hurting him." 

There it was, the L-word. Nick went back to pawing through his bag, frustrated that Louis hadn’t returned those Beats so he was forced to have this conversation instead of pretending to sleep the whole ride home. Elgar loved Louis. 

It had taken years for Elgar admit his love for Nick.

Elgar had turned back to the window by the time Nick looked up. 

“Okay,” Nick finally said, resolved. 

He wasn’t sure what else there was to say. Elgar had gone and fallen in love with a boy who was still in uni. A boy who still had years ahead of him to sow his wild oats. A boy who was going to wreck him when he got some sense and left them.

“Okay?” Elgar repeated. He shook his head. “That’s what you have to say?”

“You want me to stop flirting?” Nick bit his thumbnail. He wasn’t sure that he could make that promise. It was part of who he was.

“I want…” Elgar paused. "I want to marry you. I want it to be you and me forever. And him. Us and Lou. For real. That's what I want."

Nick wasn’t sure that Elgar was going to get that.

“I want you to commit to us.”

“I—”

“Not just words, Nick. In practice too. I don’t want to doubt that you’re committed to us. I don’t want Lou to… it’s not about flirting. There’s a line and you know it and you crossed it yesterday.”

“If I’m not acting on the flirtation—”

Elgar’s voice was sharp. “It’s still cruel.”

Nick’s heart pounded. _Cruel._

“It’s cruel to lead Harry on, to dangle yourself in front of him like maybe one day he’ll get to have you again, when I know that’s not going to happen. It’s cruel to whoever the fuck that was yesterday, were you just using him to what…? Make us jealous? Or did you not know we were there? Is that how you act when we’re not around? No wonder everyone thinks you’ve slept with everyone who crosses your path.”

“You think I’m cruel?” Nick had never felt so small.

“I think sometimes you use yourself as a weapon.” 

Oh. Nick fidgeted in his seat. If he was at home he probably would’ve stormed off because he didn’t need to sit and just take it. Instead he checked his watch. They were due into the station in twenty minutes. He could take a walk then.

“Nick,” Elgar said softly. “I’m tired of being hurt, and pretending like I’m not.”

Tears prickled at the back of Nick’s eyes. He set his face and stared at the back of the seat in front of him so they’d go back to wherever tears come from. 

Elgar sighed. “Wow. Okay.” 

Nick desperately needed Elgar to stop talking, but if he moved at all, those tears were going to make an appearance. 

“I think we should call off the engagement until we figure our shit out,” Elgar finally said.

All of his worst fears just came true. Nick scrambled out of the seat, apologising to the man in front him when he jostled the seat back, and shoved a dark pair of sunglasses on. He could wait at the train door for fifteen minutes. He was sure that was going to hurt Elgar too, but apparently Elgar was used to that. 


	7. Chapter 7

Louis woke up in his childhood bedroom. Stretching his legs and kicking the duvet off, he also kicked Zayn, who he had forgotten was there too.

“Oh, shit, man. Sorry,” Louis said in a loud whisper before rushing to the loo. He hoped he hadn’t woken him up. 

Zayn had been a solid rock for Louis as he processed Nick and Elgar’s called off engagement. Louis was nothing but a roil of emotions and Zayn had been there through each one: sadness for them that they were struggling, happiness for him that they weren’t going to get married, guilt that he was happy, confused by what it actually meant, worried it meant it was all over, frustration that he had grown so close to them yet felt like he couldn’t help at all with this problem.

Zayn stumbled into the bathroom as Louis was shaking himself off. “Oi,” Louis said halfheartedly. Zayn grunted. 

Louis fell back into bed then stared at the ceiling until Zayn finished up and crawled right back in next to him.

“How are you feeling today?”

Louis shrugged. The same turntable of emotions didn’t feel like it was going to stop anytime soon. 

“I think you slept better last night.”

Louis curled up so his back was tight against Zayn’s chest. He was so, _so_ thankful that coming out hadn’t changed how affectionate Zayn was towards him. “Yeah, I think I did.”

“Progress!” Zayn cheered. Louis smiled at the enthusiasm. “You should call them today. See how they’re doing.”

The smile slid off Louis’ lips. “I guess.” He knew Zayn was right and that both Nick and Elgar were worried about him. But he didn’t know what to say to them. 

_Engagement is off_ had been the first text from Elgar.

Louis’ _what?_ Had gone unanswered for a few hours until Elgar finally responded. _We’re not breaking up. Just taking a step back. Figuring out our shit._

Nick had called him later that day and Louis let it ring until it went to voicemail. Nick had quietly breathed on the line until he let out a whispered, “shit,” then hung up.

Since Nick hadn’t tried to call again, Louis eventually sent him a text. _I hope you’re okay._ It didn’t even begin to cover what they needed to talk about, and Louis was still so angry about seeing Nick on that hill with that geezer. Nick hadn’t apologised or given any explanation and whatever was going on between Nick and Elgar, Louis needed to think about what the outcome of Nick’s transgressions were going to be. He couldn’t let it slide, it was just going to keep happening, but the thought of ending things with Nick was painful. Not just lovers, they had become really good friends since they started this whole thing, and he had to decide which was going to be more painful, saying goodbye to Nick—and Elgar—or staying on this fucked up merry-go-round.

Elgar had sent more texts. _Please let us know you’re okay._ And _It’s nearly impossible but I’m trying to stay out of this thing with you and Nick. But you two have to talk._ And then some simple, _Thinking of you._ The last one had just said, _Please tell me Zayn’s there for you. Or your mum?_

That was the one that had Louis scrambling to go up North, back to Doncaster, and bury himself in sheets that he knew would no longer smell like them, but that would hold memories. Zayn had booked the train tickets and had warned Jay about the state Louis was in. 

Zayn gave him a squeeze.

“You think your mum still has some of that amazing yogurt? Fuck, it was so good last time.”

Louis laughed. It felt good. He let go and laughed and laughed until his sides hurt. Zayn had loved that yogurt the last time he was here, an extreme, ungodly amount.

“Did you ask her to stock up?” Louis tossed the duvet off for the second time that morning. “Let’s go ask.”

Something about the laughter loosened Louis’ chest. He couldn’t sit in that purgatory any longer, so after escorting Zayn to the kitchen, handing him a spoon, and pointing out the rows of yogurt in the refrigerator, he took his phone and went to sit in the garden.

Elgar’s phone rang long enough that Louis started to debate with himself whether or not to leave a message. When the call connected, from a distance Louis heard Elgar say, “I really gotta take this,” and then there was some shuffling in the background, and a breathless Elgar asking, “Lou? Lou? You still there?”

“Hey, EJ.”

“How are you?”

“Bit shit, actually.”

“Fuck, I know. We’ve made a right mess out of this. Are you… I mean, on a scale of one to ten, how angry with us are you?”

“I think I’m more confused and frustrated than just mad. I feel like I’m in the dark all over again. You two are figuring your shit out and I’m on the sidelines waiting for someone to tell me what’s going on. And, it’s like… I guess at this point I’m trying to decide if this is even worth it, if I’m never going to be an equal.”

“Wait… what?”

“What do you mean what? We literally already had this discussion, when you ambushed my footie match.”

“No, we’re—Nothing’s been sorted. Fucking hell. Have you talked to Nick?”

“No. I’m still waiting for him to apologise, or like, whatever. I don’t know. He left a voicemail but pretty much immediately hung up.”

Elgar made a grunt of frustration. “Seriously?”

“I’m not fucking lying to you.”

“No. It’s not you. It’s. Shit! We’re not doing anything without you. Nick’s staying with Harry—”

“ _What?_ ”

“He has to sort his shit out. And that includes what’s going on and the expectations you two have with each other. Your boundaries are not the same as mine and that’s something the two of you have to work out without me mediating every step of the way.”

“So you two aren’t, like, figuring out if you want to end this with me?”

“No. That’s—No. I gave him… not an ultimatum, exactly… I don’t know what it was and if he doesn’t want the same thing I guess it’s going to be a bigger discussion, but he, Nick, needs to figure out what he wants, and I can’t help him with that. But, I made it clear that I want him _and you_ , as an _us_ , and that we had to figure it out.”

“Oh.”

“He promised me he was going to talk to you. Which… if he hasn’t. Fuck.”

Louis’ thoughts were all over the place. These two were really giving his heart a workout. “Do you think—” He didn’t want to finish that thought. “I’m not sure this is better than thinking you two were working stuff out without me.”

“Yeah…” 

They both sat in silence for a few seconds. 

“It’s good to hear your voice though,” Elgar said. “I’m really glad you called.”

“Me too. I miss you.” Which was ridiculous. He had gone his whole life without these two and suddenly a few days away was crushing. 

“I miss you like crazy. I figured Nick would come to his senses in a matter of hours. But, Nick does always work on his own timetable.”

“What if he—”

“Don’t,” Elgar said softly. “Don’t start thinking like that. He’ll come around. He will. He just… I’m sure he just needs time.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Hey, do you wanna come over tonight? We could… dinner? Or just hang out? I thought you and Nick were… but… no sense in us being lonely by ourselves, right?”

“Oh, that sounds, yeah. That would’ve been ace. But I’m back home. Zayn and me mum have been keeping me company.”

Elgar let out a long sigh. “Good. Good. I’m—that’s really good. Maybe when you get back? And don’t be a stranger. Like, now that I know. You can call, text. I’m here.”

A weight lifted off Louis’ chest. “Yeah. Great. I’m… that’s yeah. I’ll be back, soon. Really soon.”

  


***

  


Nick squinted his eyes as Harry threw open the curtains and jumped into bed next to him. “So, not that I don’t appreciate seeing your face every day, but when are you going to get your shit together and leave?”

Nick groaned and buried himself under the duvet. His nap hadn’t been near long enough. “I hate you.”

“The fact that you’ve all but moved into my guest room tells me different.”

It had been less than a week. He’d gone on longer holidays with Harry.

“Get up,” Harry said as he ripped the duvet off the bed. Nick scrambled to cover his bits as Harry growled, “Oh for fucks sake. Put some pants on and come down for lunch and a chat.”

Nick scoffed—pot calling the kettle black—but he did as he was told, slowly pulling on his pants after finding them balled up in a pile with the rest of his clothes, then rooting through the dresser for some lounge clothes he kept at Harry’s. He pulled one of Elgar’s _Strike!_ t-shirts and some well-worn joggers. After cleaning his teeth and washing his face and running his wet fingers through his hair, he knew he had procrastinated enough and went down to face his feelings.

He sat at the breakfast nook and Harry slid a ham and cheese toastie to him. 

“What did you do this time?” Harry asked. 

Nick picked at the corner of the sandwich. “Why are you assuming this is my fault?”

“Because he kicked you out?”

“He didn’t kick me out,” Nick said, petulant even to his own ears. “I left.”

Harry sighed. “Okay. Why did you leave?”

“Because he called off our engagement.”

“So again, I ask, what did you do this time?”

“Nothing! Some flirting. Suddenly Louis’ in our lives and I’m not allowed to flirt anymore. It’s bollocks.”

Harry cracked open a beer and placed it next to the uneaten sandwich. “I’m plying you with alcohol.” He opened one for himself too. “Innocent flirting, or your very specific brand of making everyone around you think that you’re going to actually fuck around with your mark?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Harry gave him a long, hard look. “You know what I mean.”

Nick swallowed thickly. They’d never properly talked about what happened between them, or how Harry had caught feelings and Nick had cut things off. “Fuck, Haz. I don’t do it on purpose.”

“Nicholas Peter Grimshaw. We have known each other entirely too long and entirely too well for you to try and get away with the innocent act with me. So spit it the fuck out: why are you acting arsey?”

“Fine. I probably went too far and EJ and Lou saw and Lou got pissed and then EJ called off the engagement.”

Harry was doing that thing that always unnerved Nick, staring at him as if he was looking right into the depths of his coal-black soul. “Is the thing with Lou a passing fancy?”

“What?” That wasn’t the question he expected.

“What you and EJ have with Louis? Is that meant to be long term or are you just having a bit of fun, like it was with me?”

“Haz—”

“I don’t mean that to be ‘oh woe is me.’ I know all the ways the three of us weren’t compatible together, that we were never going to be long term.”

It was different. Nick knew that. Louis and Elgar mostly made him feel settled, loved, _happy._ But if he thought too much about it, the pressure started building. “You think?”

Harry looked confused for a moment, then his face smoothed over to his Long Day of Press Face. Nick hated that face. “What we had,” Harry was speaking extra slow, “was not the same as what you have with them. Or what I have with Nick.”

That was… Again, Nick _knew_ they were serious, but had been avoiding getting too deep into the details. Everyone was pairing up, settling down—the rest of his life was likely going to be complaining about pensions to no one since all his friends were partnered off after he was sacked from _The Breakfast Show_ for having too many wrinkles and scaring the kiddos who refused to listen to radio. It sounded awful. “You lads are really…”

Harry took a long drink of his beer. “Not to rub salt in it, but I bought a ring.”

Nick felt the blood drain from his face.

Harry looked concerned as he asked, “Nick? Are you—”

“I’m fine. Just… surprised I guess. I never pegged you for settling down.” Never pegged either of them for the settling type. He always figured it’d be him and Harry, lonely to the end, remembering the good old days.

“I wasn’t about to sit around waiting for you—”

“No! That’s not what I… I guess I just pictured us both young and foolish and free forever, you know?”

Harry shrugged. “That seems proper sad, yeah?”

Nick bit into the tepid sandwich. Harry was right, of course. Nick hated the idea of getting old though. Admitting he was entering the next stage of his life meant he was a step closer to death, and there was still so much he wanted to accomplish.

Harry, bless him, kept up the conversation. “What’s your favourite part of the day?”

“Hm?” Harry was a sneaky one and Nick didn’t know where he was going with this.

“Do keep up. What’s the best part of the day for you?”

“End of the day.” God, he had turned into such a sop. “When we’re all together, having a cuddle, relaxing before bed.” He refused to look at the look Harry was surely giving him.

“Right. That’s better than going on the pull? Hoping to impress someone into sleeping with you?”

“They’re not quite the same situation.”

“Can I ask you something honestly? I don’t want you to get mad at me.”

“You can ask. Not sure I’ll answer.”

“No one is asking you to be faithful to one dick. You get two dicks, whenever you want, right? Two hearts? Two people putting up with your crap? Two people who care for you and want to love you forever.”

“I don’t know that—”

Harry shut him up with a look. “Elgar wants to be with you forever. Up until you fucked it up, things were going swimmingly with Louis, right? No major signs or worries that he was going to pie you off?”

“He’s so young, Haz.”

“You were young once.”

“I was a fucking prang, mate. He’s going to fuck off and break us once the novelty wears off. He’s going to leave, the way everyone fucking leaves.”

“Really?” Harry tilted his head and gave another of his soul searching looks. “You really think that?”

“Well I don’t know, do I?”

“So you’re acting like a total prat because you’re scared of what he might do in the future? You want to scare him off? Make him think you’re not worth it because _you’re_ scared? Throw away the fucking perfect relationship for you because you’re afraid of what the future will bring? Grow a fucking pair, mate.”

“I think that ship has sailed, at this point. He called off the engagement. They’re probably gallivanting about happy as can be without me.”

Harry spoke slowly, like he was explaining something complicated to a small child. “Other than you throwing yourself at every man you see, is there any other reason why they’d seriously be ending things with you? And it sounds like you haven’t spoken to Louis at all. Maybe he’s upset but not upset-enough-to-end-it upset, you know?”

“Elgar’s putting Louis first,” he said petulantly. 

“Elgar’s probably putting himself first, for once. Why should he continue to be the middleman? If it’s going to work you all need to coexist equally.”

“Fuck.”

“Fuckin’ Hell, mate. You’re so dense. Get off your bloody arse and go get your blokes back.”

“Haz—”

“Your dad would want you to be happy, you know? I know everything still hurts more than you can handle and you’re scared shitless of losing anyone else from your life, but—”

“Haz,” Nick said darkly, grief squeezing tight in his heart. “Don’t.”

Harry’s eyes softened. “You’ve got to try,” he pressed on. “You owe that to yourself, love. Now pick yourself up and get your lads.”

It was infuriating how Harry was always right about everything.

  


***

  


Louis arrived home to find Nick sitting on his beat up sofa with Nazim, watching an old rerun of _Antiques Roadshow._ “What’s this then? We’re just letting anyone in our apartment these days?”

Nazim at least had the courtesy to look a bit sheepish. “Bruv, if Grimmy off the radio shows up at my door, I’m gonna let him in.” Nazim gently punched Louis in the bicep. “Good luck, and give ‘em hell.”

Nick turned off the telly and slung an arm around the back of the sofa, watching Louis. Louis couldn’t read the look on his face at all; just as equally he could be coming back to collect the fancy watch, deliver the final blow to their relationship, or mend things. 

“Well, what do you want?” Louis finally said, crossing his arms across his chest when it became clear that Nick wasn’t going to talk first.

“Can we go somewhere that’s not your living room?”

Louis gave his best unimpressed look. “Seriously? After days of silence I come home from class to find you, casual as fuck, hanging on my sofa and now you want to go somewhere else?”

“Even your room? I suspect if any more roommates show up when I’m here they’re all going to gang up on me.”

“I’ll have to thank Nazim for giving you a proper welcome.”

“Fair game, I did have to beg him to let me in and then he was frosty as fuck. So you shouldn’t be too mad at him.”

“What are you doing here, Nick?”

“I came to apologise.”

“Really? For what?” Louis asked. He didn’t plan on budging.

“For…” Nick let out a long breath. “For a lot of shit. Please, Lou, can we go to your room.”

Louis wanted to make one thing clear. “We’re not fucking.”

“No. That’s not… I don’t have an ulterior motive. I have a lot to apologise for and I want to try to explain my behavior. You don’t even have to forgive me, though I wish you would, but I want to say my piece.”

“Fucking hell, Nick Grimshaw.” Louis turned and walked toward his room. He wasn’t extending an invitation. Nick was on his heels in a moment, stupid tiny flat, and followed him in. Louis waited until he was in to shut the door behind him. 

Nick was already inspecting his room, leaning over his messy desk to look at the wall of photos, doodles, and notes above it. He wished he had taken down the ticket from the first show they saw together and the other trinkets from their relationship. 

“Nice place,” Nick said.

Louis scoffed. “Says the man with a house in Stoke Newington?”

“Seriously, it’s nicer than my student housing was. Which, to be fair, isn’t saying much. That place was a—”

“Nick.”

Nick turned to look at him with wide eyes.

“Why are you here?” Louis enunciated slowly.

“I’m here to apologise for being a prat.” Nick sat on Louis’ bed. “I know you didn’t want me flirting, like that, with others and I still did it, knowing full well I might be caught.”

“Whether or not I was there is really beside the point. I wouldn’t want—”

“No, I know. Sorry. I’m rubbish at this. I know I shouldn’t when you’re not around either. It needs to stop. Full stop.”

He looked at Louis from across the room.

“Okay. Cool. Thanks for stopping by.” What the hell. Louis’ toddler-aged siblings could apologise better than that.

“No, wait. Fuck. The point is that I know I was in the wrong. I know I hurt you. And if you forgive me, I promise I won’t do it again.”

“And I should just believe you?”

“No. I’ll have to prove it to you. But I’m honestly sitting here begging you to give me another chance.”

“What’s Elgar have to say about this?”

“I dunno.” Nick shrugged. “This is between _us_ , so here I am. Elgar trusts me. But I get now that you have different boundaries so if you’re willing, I want to work through them with you.” 

“But, I mean, is this, us, still something you two want?”

“Last I talked to him, he made it very clear to me that he wants this. Us. Both of us. And he’s not going to prioritise me over you. And I think the first time I realised that I didn’t take it well. Which is shit, I know, but here we are and I’m at least trying.”

“And you?”

“What about me?”

“You want this? Or you just want to smooth things over with Elgar?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

Louis rolled his eyes.

“I want this,” Nick said quickly. “I really like you. I obviously like Elgar. I think we all fit together really well and if I wasn’t an idiot we’d all still be happy.”

“So why were you being an idiot in the first place?”

Nick took a deep breath, then shrugged and said, “A lot of reasons. Because Elgar’s always let me get away with it, even when it hurt him. Because I was scared of what properly being with you two would mean. Because I was scared that you were going to leave first and destroy my heart.”

Louis had never heard something so ridiculous. “Wow.” He didn’t know if he was angrier or sadder and he had to let those two emotions battle it out before he answered. “You really are an idiot.”

“I know—”

“Fuck you, Nick.”

“What?” Nick looked as taken aback and Louis felt. 

“You lashed out and hurt me, on purpose, because you were scared of some hypothetical situation in the future?” Louis was fuming.

“Well when you put it that way, it does sound a bit shit, doesn’t it?”

“A bit shit? What the hell, Nick. What were you thinking?”

“I dunno.”

“Why’d you think I was ending it?” Louis had no idea what would give him that impression. 

“I dunno. I didn’t really.”

“And now you’ve had a good think on it, and you’ve decided I’m alright? That there’s some guarantee I won’t break your heart?”

“No, but the other option was just as terrifying, while I’m being honest.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“You’re not going to break my heart. And this is it for me. You and Elgar until we’re all grey and wrinkled.”

“You’re already starting to wrinkle.” Louis couldn’t help the snark. He was so absolutely pissed. “And what’s so wrong about that?”

“Well obviously I’m not ready to be grey and wrinkled and _old_.”

“That sounds like something you need to talk to your therapist about. I can’t help you with that.”

“No, I know. I… am. Er, I will, work through this, but I wanted to let you know, that it was me. It’s my shit I need to work through, and if you let me, I’ll prove it to you everyday.”

“You can’t do this shit again. If there’s an issue you have to talk to me before and not after you nuke it all.”

“Does that mean…”

“I’m not… I haven’t decided.”

“So you’re not saying no? To getting back together?”

“I didn’t know we had formally broken up since you just ghosted. So cheers to that too.”

“Fuck. I—”

“I’m not saying no. I’m saying that I’m glad you came over to actually talk. And I’m glad you were honest, even if you are off your rocker. And now I need to process.”

“Okay. I’ll take that.” He gave Louis a tentative smile, then he stood and took a step closer, then another, slowly, as if Louis was going to attack. Louis uncrossed his arms at Nick’s next step. “Can I get a hug? And then I’ll leave you to your processing.”

Louis nodded. Nick was an emotionally stunted dickhead sometimes, but he gave good cuddles. He stepped into Nick’s arms. 

  


***

  


Truthfully, Louis didn’t need much time to think through his options: trust Nick and risk getting hurt again or break his own heart by walking away. 

He talked it out with both Zayn and his mum and by the next morning was ready to get his boyfriends back together. 

Their group chat had been silent since Leeds, so Louis was happy to change that. ‘You lads around this afternoon? Promised Calvin I’d go to Tesco with him, so then I was thinking we should meet up for something to eat before some epic make up sex.’

Nick responded immediately. ‘Does this mean… Yes. I’m in. Elgar, can I come back home?’

Elgar’s ‘Yes you dolt. Missed you.’ followed a moment later.

Louis couldn’t stop smiling as he got dressed. He was normally the one dragging his feet to the shops, and Calvin cursed him out as he jumped into his bed to shake him awake. 

“Go away, Lou,” he groaned.

“Great! You’re up! Let’s go.”

“What the fuck? Go where?” Calvin rubbed his eyes.

“Tesco. You said you wanted to go.”

“Not at…” Calvin squinted at the clock. “Bloody seven o’clock.”

“You want me to go? This is your chance.” Louis pulled his duvet off the bed. “I have class later this morning and then very important plans that involve me getting laid this afternoon.”

“I think I liked you better celibate.”

“I was never celibate. Just secretive. Now get up.”

“Fine. I’m getting up.”

“I’ve already showered so it’s all yours.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

Louis rushed him through the shopping, then left for class early to start his assignment that was due in a few days. He had a good feeling that he wasn’t going to want to work on it after the three of them were together again. 

  
  


Louis let himself into their house, greeting the dogs, and shouted hello into the silence. 

“We’re up here!” Nick shouted back. 

Louis gave the dogs a treat as a bribe to keep them occupied for a while and headed upstairs. He popped his head in the bedroom door and was surprised to see them both laying on the bed, fully clothed. 

“Is everything okay?” he asked. 

“Peachy, now that you’re here,” Elgar said, arm outstretched, welcoming him in.

“Hiya, love.” Nick got up and pulled Louis into a hug. “Sight for sore eyes you are.”

“You saw me yesterday,” Louis grumbled into Nick’s neck. Elgar sat up and pulled him into a hug too. Louis had sort of assumed that things were going to be like before. They had been together for years before Louis entered their lives and habits were hard to break. “Figured I’d be walking into some pretty major make up sex.”

“Waited for you, didn’t we?” Nick said. “We’re all in this together.”

Louis hoped that wasn’t just lip service, but until more time passed, he’d have to have faith that things would change. He was putting his trust in Nick—and Elgar—and hoped he wasn’t going to be hurt. But that was all anyone could do. 

“Felt like the right thing, as hard as it was.” Elgar shot a blinding smile his way. “Missed you, didn’t I?” Then his face softened as his eyes flicked from Louis to Nick. “You alright? Everything sorted?”

Louis turned back to Nick. “Hope so.” Nick nodded and squeezed his hand. “Got a good feeling about it,” Louis continued. He pecked Nick on the lips. “You boys sorted?”

“Yeah,” Elgar said. “All good right now. Happy that my boys are back. Feels right.”

Louis agreed. He was relieved it had all worked out the way it had. He had felt off balance and incomplete without them. As soon as he had walked in and seen them again, something in his heart settled. He looked back and forth between them, could feel the heat returned from both of their looks. 

“Can we get to the sex part now?” Louis asked. “Missed you two.”

Elgar was already peeling off his shirt and coaxing Louis over. Nick wrapped his arms around Louis and kissed the side of Louis’ neck as they met Elgar. Nick slid his hands under Louis’ shirt, enveloping him in warmth as his arms criss crossed Louis’ torso. Then he reached down and pulled up the hem of Louis’ shirt, pulling it off his body and dropping it on the floor.

Louis climbed into the bed next to Elgar and finished undressing him, kissing from his ankles up to his hips once he was laid out and naked for him.

Elgar was hard, and thick, and having it right there in his face was too much without acting on it. Louis took him into his mouth, sucking on the tip before taking in more, as much as he could manage. Elgar twisted his fingers into Louis’ hair and it was like an anchor as Nick moved around to the foot of the bed and carefully removed Louis’ joggers and pants.

Nick blanketed himself along Louis’ back, peppering kisses across his shoulders and the tops of his arms. 

“What do you want, Lou?” Nick murmured into his ear. 

“Want you to suck me. Love your mouth. Love—” Louis moved so he could give Elgar a kiss, and Nick followed, still attached to his back. “And I want to fuck you,” he said to Elgar after a long kiss. “Want to make you feel so good.” 

“I think we’ve got ourselves a plan,” Nick said. “Love watching you two.” 

Louis rolled out of their embrace to get the lube and condoms out of their well-stocked drawer. He turned back around to find them making out, rutting against each other and he had to reach down and give himself a few firm tugs. They were so fucking hot together. 

Louis didn’t think he’d ever tire of getting to watch this, so he let himself for a few long minutes, until he was too antsy to wait any longer. 

He laid down on Elgar’s other side, none to subtly pressing his dick against Elgar’s bum and putting the lube between Nick and Elgar. 

Nick snapped open the bottle. “Okay if I finger him?” Nick asked.

“Yes, please,” Louis said, as they all moved around again: Elgar flat on his back with his knees up and feet planted on the bed, Louis straddling him, getting to feel his hard cock against his lower back, and Nick stationed between Elgar’s legs. 

Elgar’s mouth dropped open and Louis leaned down to distract him, first with a kiss, then by mouthing at his neck, his shoulder, across his collarbone. By the time Nick was done, Louis had covered his arms and torso and was mouthing below his navel.

“I’m ready. Need you. Need you in me,” Elgar pleaded. Louis got the condom on and slicked himself up and started to push into Elgar. The pressure was as amazing as Elgar’s moans. Nick poured more lube onto his palm them started wanking Elgar, in slow strokes that had Elgar immediately begging for more. Nick and Louis worked in tandem, slowing down and speeding up, keeping Elgar on edge until Louis was sure he was going to come if they didn’t let Elgar go first. He locked eyes with Nick and with a quick nod Nick got his message and started playing with Elgar’s nipples as he worked him over faster. Sweat dripped down Louis’ chest as he pumped his hips and bit down hard on his lip to keep from coming.

With a guttural cry, Elgar came all over Nick’s hand as he pulsed around Louis. Louis had to hold himself still, and pulled out as soon as Elgar was done, giving himself a few moments of rest before he gingerly peeled the condom off. 

“Don’t want to come yet,” Louis said, watching Nick lick Elgar’s come off his fingers. 

Elgar laid there catching his breath until he finally propped himself up on his elbow. “Want to get my fingers in you,” he said to Nick. “Want to watch you writhe.” 

Nick threw his head back. “Fuck. Yes.”

He took Elgar’s spot in the middle of the bed, and turned to Louis. “Come. Sit on my face.” 

“You sure?” Louis asked. 

“Please. Please, Lou.”

“I’ve never—”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Elgar promised. “Make sure he’s okay. I wanna watch.”

“If you’re sure…”

Nick nodded firmly, his curls flopping down across his forehead.

“Alright.” Louis swung his leg over Nick’s chest, then looked over his shoulder as he backed up over Nick’s face. As he lowered himself, Nick rose up to meet him, clamping his hands over Louis’ thighs, and digging his fingers in. 

The first lick made Louis yelp. He knew it was coming and yet he was wholly unprepared for the sensation of Nick’s tongue pressed against him.

Elgar swiped the come from his body and rubbed it over his fingers, then added more lube. Louis watched Elgar’s face, serious with concentration, as he slid his fingers into Nick. Nick stopped eating him out for a moment, too busy puffing out hot breaths as he got used to the feeling. But soon he was back to it, alternating between kitten licks, long sweeps of his tongue, quick scrapes of his teeth, and pressing into Louis. The different sensations had Louis keening. 

Nick was rocking beneath him, every jolt of his body jarred Louis too, but Nick kept working Louis over. 

Louis tried to hold off, but every whimper from below him, the dark look in Elgar’s eyes, the smell of their bodies, all stacked on top of the pure pleasure he was was receiving brought him closer and closer to his orgasm. He leaned forward, altering the position of Nick’s tongue inside him, and he could finally rub himself off against Nick’s chest, pushing back against Nick’s tongue and forward through the damp thatch of his chest hair. 

Louis licked at Nick’s cock, too on edge to get his hands to do anything other than hold himself up, until Elgar helped out, holding Nick’s cock in the perfect position for Louis to slide his mouth over it the next time he propelled himself forward. Just as he was about to come, Nick came first, bringing an abrupt end to feeling Nick’s tongue against him. 

Louis stilled as Nick came down his throat. Louis swallowed it all, only moving once he was sure Nick was done. 

“My turn,” Elgar said to to Louis as soon as he looked up.

“Huh?” Louis was too hard and too come drunk to parse out exactly what he meant. 

“Want to eat you out. Finish what Nick started.”

Louis nodded. That sounded excellent to him. 

He turned around on all fours, sticking his arse out for Elgar. “Make me come,” he said.

Elgar’s answer was taking Louis’ arse in his hands and making room for Elgar’s face between his cheeks. Elgar dove in, eating him out wet and messy like he was a starved man. Louis reached down between his legs. He was so hard and desperate to come. 

“Nuh uh,” Nick slurred. “Let me.”

Louis dropped to his elbows as Nick took Louis’ cock in his hand. Between the two of them, it didn’t take long until Louis was panting and tensing, his body ready for the release. Nick squeezed and twisted at the same time that Elgar tongued in deeper, the burn of his stubble finally sending Louis over the edge as his orgasm rocketed through him. 

Elgar held him up through the ensuing aftershocks and once he was well and truly wrung out, the two of them collapsed next to Nick on the bed.

After a long silence while they all caught their breaths, Nick whispered, “Can’t believe I almost fucked this all up because I was scared.”

Louis combed his fingers through Nick’s sweaty, knotted hair. 

“Next time just talk to us,” Louis said, eyes closed as he felt himself start to drift off to sleep. He let out a big yawn. “We’re all in this together.”

Elgar nodded his agreement, rubbing his forehead against Louis’ biceps. “Yeah, what he said.”

“Who’s making breakfast in the morning?” Nick asked. 

Louis didn’t volunteer. That sounded like a morning problem, something to tackle after he had his first good night’s sleep in a while, right where he was supposed to be between his boyfriends.

  


***

  


Elgar looked to Nick to confirm. “This is it?” He knew Louis lived in student housing, but hadn’t stopped to remember what that was like. The hallway was dingy and reeked of stale beer.

“Yep,” Nick said. 

“Great.” Elgar knocked on the door, and hoped Louis and not one of his million roommates would answer. 

No such luck. “Zayn! Hi. Is Louis—”

Louis arrived a moment later. "Oh! I didn't... Bye Zayn!" he said as he tried to push him out of the doorway.

“No,” Zayn said. "I’ve got something to say.”

Elgar took a step back, stumbling into Nick. He knew how fiercely Zayn loved Louis and was nervous to get the best friend talk.

“Lads,” Zayn said cooly. “Before you come in—”

“Zayn!” Louis yanked his arm and pulled him away from the door, then clamped a hand over Zayn’s mouth.

“He’s got nothing to say,” Louis hissed. “In fact he was just leaving.”

“It’s alright,” Nick said. “We, I, deserve it. Give us what you got, Zayn.”

“Ow!” Louis yelped and pulled his hand away. “What are you? A vampire?”

Zayn smirked at him before turning his attention to Elgar and Nick. 

“You want to make an honest man out of my boy?”

“We’re in this,” Nick said, putting a hand on his heart. “One hundred and ten percent. We’re serious about the lad.”

“And you’re gonna treat him right?”

“Yeah.” Elgar swallowed. “He’s important to us. We don’t want to hurt him.”

Zayn narrowed his eyes and looked back and forth between them. “And you know how terrible his feet smell?”

“You’re dead, Zayn!” Louis yelled.

Undeterred, Zayn carried on. “And he never does the washing up. And it’s impossible to get him to eat a leafy green. And he wants like a million kids one day.”

Holding back a smile, Elgar nodded as seriously as he could muster. He noticed Nick doing the same. “Yessir.”

“Okay, then come in. But know that I can rescind the offer at any time.”

“Duly noted,” Nick said.

“I am glad you worked things out,” Zayn said as they passed. “It’s good seeing him happy.”

“If Zayn’s done…” Louis waited until Zayn nodded. “Then I have a question too. What are you doing here?”

“We were sitting at home, missing you, and thought we’d come see you for a change instead of making you shlep across town,” Nick said.

“Surprise?” Elgar tacked on.

“A great surprise. Come in, we’ll go to my room.” 

They walked further into the flat to find the rest of Louis’ roommates staring at them. “Calvin, Nazim, this is Nick and Elgar, my boyfriends.”

Calvin smiled and nodded, and Nazim waved. “Grimmy, it’s good to see you again.”

Elgar turned to look at Nick. “We got to know each other before I pleaded forgiveness.”

“You a changed man?” Nazim asked. 

Nick looked at Louis and Elgar before answering. “Yeah, I think I am.”

“I’ll second that,” Elgar said. Nick had changed a bit, he felt more settled, less fidgety when they went out.

“Okay, enough of this, dads.” Louis glared at his friends. 

“Follow me. It’ll be cramped, but we’ll manage.”

Louis closed his bedroom door behind them. Elgar turned his attention from the collection of posters on the wall to Louis, who was just stood there with a soft look on his face.

“I love you,” Louis suddenly said. Elgar was caught off guard and sucked in a deep breath. “Both of you.” He flung his arms out to the side. “Sorry if it’s too soon or—”

“It’s not.” Elgar rushed forward, searing a kiss on Louis’ lips. “I love you too. Love you so much.” Elgar wanted to capture the look on Louis’ face and stare at it every day. 

Nick cleared his throat behind them. “Me too. I love you. Both of you. I know I haven’t been great at showing—”

“Nick—” Louis tried to interrupt.

“I haven’t. Not always. But I’ll prove it to you. I swear I will.”

“Nick,” Louis voice was softer as he linked their hands. “I love that you’re doing that for me.”

“For us,” Elgar felt the need to add. “I’m going to love you two forever.”

Louis took a step back with a tentative look on his face. “Dude, I’m way too young to get engaged. Just so you know.”

Nick laughed. 

“I’m glad you know that,” Elgar said. “Also, on that note, Nick and I aren’t getting married. That’s what we were talking about before we came over.”

“Why?”

“Because we can’t imagine getting married without you. And there’s no way we’re going to have you watch us do something like that.”

“Oh.” Louis seemed stunned into silence. “Good. That’s… good”

“I’d say we should celebrate,” Elgar said. “But we didn’t take into account how small your room was.”

Louis laughed. “Could go back to your place…” 

“ _Our_ place?” Nick hedged. 

“Huh?”

“How would you feel about moving in, with us, in our house. We're serious about this, us, and it’d be nice to have you around, always.”

“Did you hear Zayn?” Louis asked. “The bit about the not tidying and the—”

“Yeah, we heard,” Nick said with a laugh. “Offer’s still on the table.”

Louis drew out an “Okay,” then added, “I have to talk to my roommates. Don’t want to screw them over.”

“Yeah, of course. Doesn’t have to be immediately if you’re not ready. But that’s where we are,” Elgar said. 

“Move out!” Calvin shouted through the door. “Then we can party at your awesome, posh house.”

“Pretty sure Hot Luke is looking for a new flat,” Zayn said. “Could swap you for another token gay.”

“Hey!” Louis shouted. “I think I should be offended by that.”

“Enough to move into their place?” Nazim asked. “Do you really have a garden big enough to play footie?”

"Can you introduce us to Alexa Chung?" Calvin asked. 

“Oh my god!” Louis shouted. “Go away!”

“They’re invited anytime,” Nick said. Nick stepped forward and kissed him. “I want to come home to both of you every night."

Louis cleaved his way between them, where he fit perfectly, and gave them both long, deep kisses. “Come on lads, take me home.”

Nothing had ever sounded so sweet.

**Author's Note:**

> [Here's a shareable tumblr link if you liked it! xx](http://louandhazaf.tumblr.com/post/179382271633/louis-tomlinsonnick-grimshawelgar-johnson) and also a [gorgeous gifset](http://louandhazaf.tumblr.com/post/179382514783/tell-me-its-the-strongest-shape-louis) that was created by the lovely [ann-fortunately](https://ann-fortunately.tumblr.com/), which I won in the [1D Fanworks For Charity auction](https://1dfanworksforcharity.tumblr.com/).


End file.
